The Uncanny XMen AU103
by Stephen R Sobotka
Summary: What if everything you knew about the X Men was different from what had come before and would never be the same again? Done as a Tribute tale, so Read On, True Believers! UPDATING CHAPTERS!
1. Chapter 1

**The Uncanny X-Men -- Chapter 01 "PERFECT RECALL"  
by Stephen R. Sobotka - 2006-2008 ©**

.  
DISCLAIMER : _This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "_**X-MEN**_". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue._

AUTHOR'S NOTE : _This story, and all subsequent chapters to follow, are part of a tribute to one of the unsung greats of Marvel -- the late _**Dave Cockrum**_; one of the instrumental team members who was responsible for the reboot of the X-Men back in the 1970's. The work he did, beginning with "_**Giant-Sized X-Men #1**_" was key to the genesis of this entire effort._

_As such, this version of the Marvel Universe is a different take on what's been established before. Be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead. _

_Enjoy! - SRS_

.

oooOOOooo  
.

.  
PERFECT RECALL

.  
"_In the News today, scientific stations around the world are baffled by a 'tremor', reading well off the Rictor Scale, that was detected somewhere in the South Pacific. Sources currently report that, while details are not forthcoming, what is known is that a massive seismic event -- somewhere in an uncharted area beyond the major shipping lanes -- has caused a huge tidal surge that has reached as far as Japan, Alaska and even the coastal regions of North and South America . . ."  
._

O o O  
.

_**The Inner Sanctum of the Hellfire Club,  
****New York City HQ, 5th Avenue, Manhattan  
Two Days Later . . .**_

.  
"My Lord . . . Lady?"

Turning towards the entrance to the parlor, the slim, raven-haired woman clad in a shelf-corset, black panties and laced thigh-high boots took note of the timid-looking house-girl standing just inside the doorway. Making a few mental calculations, Tessa stepped away from the pair playing chess at the low table beside her and addressed the young woman. "What is it, Minerva? Orders were given that the Lords Cardinal were to be left in peace until noon."

"Forgive me, Lady," the girl said meekly, "but, a visitor is in the main foyer, and wishes to address the Black King personally."

Looking up from the striking game before him, the dashingly-dressed man known as Sebastian Shaw glanced briefly at the scantily-dressed servant, before he picked up one of his pieces and moved it into position against those of his opponent. "Does this visitor . . . have a name, girl?"

"It is a Professor Charles Xavier, Lord."

At that, both Shaw and Tessa glanced at each other. "Xavier?" Shaw turned completely around in his seat, his dark brows knitting together as stared at the servant. "Why would he be wanting to see me?" Pressing his lips into a thin line, he asked, "Tessa?"

"Uncertain," she replied, her own forehead creased, her eyes shifting their focus inwards as she made some intense calculations. At length, she said, "Xavier preferse to have little to do with the Hellfire Club -- on a public level -- even though he's been invited to become a member on several occasions."

Shaw snorted.

Across from where Shaw sat, his opponent toyed with one of her white chess pieces, rolling the pawn between her slim fingers. "Perhaps this Xavier wishes to speak with you on a more . . . private matter, Sebastian." The young teen aged woman smiled fetchingly -- though with the underlying energy of a coiled predator -- as Shaw turned to regard her. "If anything, I'd be intrigued to know what he's come to see you for. It might let you get some leverage over him." Flicking some of her white-blond locks out of her face, she added with a touch of levity, "To use against him when the time was right, of course."

Shaw chuckled. "You learn your lessons quickly, Emma," he said.

"I have a good teacher." Emma Frost nodded respectfully towards Shaw.

Tessa listened to the exchange, keeping silent while she waited for Shaw to respond to the current matter, all the while keeping one eye on his young companion. Having only recently come up into her station within the middle rank of the Inner Circle, the young blond had proved to be an apt disciple of Shaw's; using her natural guile, wit and skills to manipulate others and secure herself as his number-one companion. The fact that Emma was also a telepath -- a mutant power she was still developing -- made her practically indispensable to Shaw, as Tessa was, in securing his current position as the Black King.

"Still, I doubt Xavier would allow any chinks in his armor to be discovered so . . . easily, even during a visit with a rival." Shaw said at last.

"Shall we send him away, Sir?" Tessa asked.

Leaning back in his chair, Shaw idly reached over and picked up his own black king from the chess board and let it twirl over and around his knuckles, while thinking deeply for a moment. Sighing, he nodded to the servant girl. "Bring him in, and be quick, girl."

Bobbing a curtsy, the timid girl turned and fled from the room, the echo of her high-heeled shoes ringing down the hall.

Replacing the piece on the board, Shaw rose and started to pace a bit. "Tessa, are-?"

"All safeguards are in place," the tall, raven-haired woman said calmly. "I've also taken the precaution of alerting your personal guards."

Surprise flickered across Emma's face. "A little . . . paranoid, aren't we?"

Glancing over his shoulder with a grin, Shaw said, "One doesn't become one of the Lords Cardinal by being foolish enough not to be prepared, Emma." He turned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "I've learned to never take any chances in underestimating anyone . . . especially with a man like Charles Xavier."

"You would be wise to listen." Tessa said softly -- so soft, Emma snapped her eyes around, unsure if she'd even heard Shaw's assistant speak. Before she could reply, Tessa spoke again in a normal volume, saying, "Minerva is arriving, Shaw, with our guest."

Returning to his seat, Shaw sat down to await their arrival, while Emma composed herself to match his posture. Tessa simply moved to the side of the room; going still as a statue while she waited as well.

In due course, the servant girl appeared in the doorway, pausing to curtsy once more before announcing, "My Lord, Ladies . . . I present Professor Xavier." Stepping aside, she made a short bow over both hands, folding at the waist, as she dipped her face in a show of respect.

The soft whirl of an electric motor heralded the appearance of Xavier; dressed in a elegant dark suit and tie, with his feet shod in patent leather shoes, propped on the footrests of the powered wheelchair he rode. Handsome, if a bit severe in his composure, with his dark eyes and bald head, he guided his chair past the servant and onto the embroidered rug in front of Shaw.

"Charles Xavier," Shaw said, nodding.

Charles nodded silently in return, his eyes neither going right or left, but staring almost blankly straight ahead at Shaw.

_Something isn't right here._ Tessa's voice sounded in Shaw's head. _Charles has his psychic shields up at maximum._

Shaw cleared his throat, digesting what she reported. "Welcome to the Hellfire Club, Charles. We are honored to have the founder of one of Westchester's finest schools pay us a visit." He nodded to the servant, who had not moved from the doorway. "Minerva, do go and fetch our guest something to drink-."

"Forgive me, Sebastian," Charles said, cutting off Shaw's order. He hadn't been snappish or rude, but the quiet intensity of his words had been just as effective. "I thank you, but my visit will be a brief one, so you will not have to bring me any refreshments."

"Oh? I see." Shaw glanced at Tessa, then Emma, before asking, "Might I ask why you are here then?"

Briefly, Charles seemed to fold in on himself, before he gathered himself and sat up straight in his chair. "I've come here to release someone from your service. Someone that I had come to you, to keep me . . . appraised of your activities here."

Surprised, it took all of Shaw's willpower to keep his seat, yet he couldn't stop the sudden bark of anger that slipped from his lips. "A spy?" He clenched his hands into fists against the armrests on his chair. "You dared to plant a spy into our organization?"

"They were not under any orders to cause mischief or to sabotage anything while they were under your orders, Sebastian." Xavier remained calm. "In truth, you actually accepted them without reserve, since they approached you without any indications of malicious intent. Your own truth seekers would have found that out, from the beginning. All they were to do was merely observe . . . nothing more."

Shaw was livid, but Emma reached over to place a hand on his arm. "I believe he is right about that one detail, Sebastian," she said. "Every servant that comes to work for the Hellfire Club is subject to a thorough truth screening." She smirked. "Our own telepaths would have weeded out anyone that meant to do us harm."

Shaw seethed, but was losing his rising temper by degrees as the logic in her words sunk in. "Still, I find that hard to believe . . . in fact, you have a lot of gall, Charles," he said, addressing the wheelchair-bound man with a scowl. "Even more to just come before me and announce you have a spy in-!"

"Would you rather I had tried to extract them by force?" Charles tipped his head in a placating gesture. "What would that have done for any of us, now really? If I had forced the issue, you would have had the cause to retaliate against my school, attack my . . . students." There was a slight tremor in his voice, which vanished quickly as he added, "No, Sebastian. In this way, we're both able to save face for both of our organizations, and maintain the status quo between us. Surely you can see the reason in that."

"The Professor has a point, Sir."

Shaw had been about to let his temper flare anew, but the cool tone of Tessa's statement had quickly doused it. "You would agree-?"

"I agree with the final analysis. A forced extraction would have evoked the ire of all of the Lords Cardinal -- not just you, Sir -- and made them seek revenge on him," Tessa said simply. "It would have started a pocket-war which would be costly to all parties concerned. Costs which -- in the long run -- the Hellfire Club would not be able to afford." She looked at him pointedly. "Costs you yourself cannot afford, if you wish to remain Black King."

Shaw took a deep breath. It was true, especially with any other number of people -- like Bogan, Leland, Fitzroy and such -- who all coveted his rank and title among the Inner Circle. He looked at Tessa with an arched expression. "You are certain of this, of course?"

"When I have the information, I am never wrong, Sir."

Emma pursed her lips. "Must be boring, being right all the time," she said under her breath.

"Emma, that will be enough." Shaw turned back to face Xavier with a deep sigh of waning frustration. "Very well, Charles. When I see it in this light . . . you were right to come and speak to me about this openly."

"Then I may retrieve my operative, and depart without further problems?" Xavier leaned back in his chair. "I simply don't wish to cause a scene."

"Very well," Shaw said, planing his hands on his hips. "Shall I summon your 'pawn', so we may at least learn who they were before you depart?"

A small smile spread over Xavier's lips. "There's no need, Shaw. My agent is already here."

Now Shaw did rise from his seat. "They are? Who, then-?" He glanced towards the doorway -- the servant, Minerva was looking at them all with a nervous, fearful look -- then over towards Emma. The teen aged telepath was crossly shaking her head, clearly reading his suspicion.

"I believe, Professor Xavier was referring to me, Sir."

Whirling around, Shaw blinked as Tessa stepped away from the wall and moved to stand between him and Charles. "Tessa!" he gasped; the shock all to clear on his face as he stared at his now-former assistant. "It was you, all this time?"

"I am sorry for the deception, Sebastian. I don't pretend to imagine how you must feel, but the odds are you will recover . . . in time. I simply was doing my duty, as any one who works undercover will tell you." She looked at Xavier and said, "I do apologize for not coming forwards sooner, Charles-."

"It is all right, Tessa," Charles said. "Explanations can be given later . . . for now, I believe it is best we leave this place."

"Agreed, but . . . a moment, please?" Tessa faced Emma, staring at her with her violet eyes glittering. "There is something I must do here."

Emma rose from her seat and stood with her hands half-way raised, as if she expected Tessa to attack.

"Don't harm her, Tessa!" Shaw moved to stand between the two young women . . . only to stop in mid-step when a mental order from Xavier intervened; Stop. Wait. Unbidden, Shaw felt his body freeze in place.

Tessa didn't advance further towards the blond telepath; she merely stood there and folded her hands before her. "I mean you no ill, Emma," she said. "Though we never were really . . . friends, I still feel I must give you something for my time spent here."

Emma didn't relax, but she arched one eyebrow at the dark-haired woman. "Thanks, but I don't think I'd want anything from you, not after just-."

"It's not anything material," Tessa said, her cool voice cutting across Emma's retort like an icy blade. "Rather, it is . . . information." With that, her eyes widened slightly.

Emma gasped, flinching as she stared back at Tessa. "Wh-what . . . are . . . ?" Shaking her head, she started to sink back into her seat.

"What-?" Shaw once more made to move towards his young charge.

Tessa held out one hand towards him. "She is unharmed. I'm merely leaving her with knowledge."

"Knowledge?" Shaw stared at her, uncertainty flickering across his face.

Abruptly, Tessa's intense expression relaxed, and Emma dropped fully into the chair behind her; moaning and holding her head with both hands as the telepathic link between them was cut off.

"I am finished. Use my gift well . . . and, good-bye Emma," Tessa said softly. "For now." Turning she nodded to Shaw. "Good-bye, Sebastian. While it may not seem like it, it was . . . an honor to serve you." She looked to Xavier, who was turned around, facing the door. "I am ready, Charles."

"Have a good day, Sebastian . . . until our next meeting," Xavier said, waiting as Tessa stepped towards the door, before following her out of the room, leaving the servant girl to trail after them to show them out.

Shaw watched them go, his ire seething, before he turned to face Emma. "Good riddance! 'An honor' she said . . . blast the girl!" He looked at the blonde, shoving his anger aside as he said, "Are you all right, Emma? If that little, two-faced-."

"Shut . . . up . . . Sebastian!"

Jerking back slightly, Shaw's eyes grew wide at the sudden, icy vehemence in the young girl's voice. "Emma?"

Lifting her head from her hands, Emma Frost glared at the Black King with utter, fiery hatred blazing in her crystal-blue eyes. "I said . . . shut, up, before I KILL you, _you . . . bastard!_"  
.

oooOOOooo

.  
Outside, after having paused long enough to take up a long overcoat and wrap it around herself, Tessa followed Charles to a parked luxury car waiting by the curb. After waiting for him to guide his chair into the back of the passenger space on a specially-designed micro-lift, Tessa closed the door and moved to take her place behind the wheel. As she secured her seatbelt, she noticed the radio had been left on, so she reached over towards its controls.

" _. . . in a tragic piece of news, on the world's Science Frontier, the intrepid research flight of four astronauts, headed by one Reed- _**CLIK!**"

The silence in the car was nearly as loud as the noise from the traffic outside, as Tessa waited for Charles to speak.

"Tessa . . . take us home."

"Home, sir?" She turned half-way around, looking out the passenger's side window as she said evenly. "For the past several years, the Hellfire Club has been my home . . . and now, you've come out of nowhere and removed me from the position you set me up for, without any explanation why, and all you say at this point is 'take us home'?"

Charles said nothing in reply.

Tessa tried to read her one-time mentor's mind, but with her limited telepathic ability and his own personal shields in place, she could not get through. "Charles, at least tell me why you felt it necessary to pull me out from the Hellfire Club. Not that I'm ungrateful, but the importance of my mission-."

"It was necessary," Charles said softly, breaking his silence. "I . . . I need your help."

"My help?"

Charles nodded, dropping his chin to his chest. "There is . . . much for you . . . back at the institute," he said. "I . . . cannot . . ."

Tessa frowned. The tone of his voice and the way she read his body language . . . something he wasn't saying made a red flag pop up in her mind. "Charles? What has happened at the Institute?"

"There . . . there has been . . . !"

"What? What has happened?" Xaiver was shaking . . . his breath hitching in soft hiccups of air . . . _he was crying?_ "Charles!"

"Dead!" The word exploded from his lips; colored with barely-contained anguish. Xavier looked up at Tessa, his eyes wet with fresh tears. "All of them . . . my students! The X-Men, are dead!"  
.

To Be Continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**The Uncanny X-Men -- Chapter 02 "THE MOURNING AFTER"  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / 2006-2008 ©**

.  
DISCLAIMER : _This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "_**X-MEN**_". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue._

AUTHOR'S NOTE : _This story, and all subsequent chapters to follow, are part of a tribute to one of the unsung greats of Marvel -- the late _**Dave Cockrum**_; one of the instrumental team members who was responsible for the reboot of the X-Men back in the 1970's. The work he did, beginning with "_**Giant-Sized X-Men #1**_" was key to the genesis of this entire effort._

_As such, this version of the Marvel Universe is a different take on what's been established before. Be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead. _

_Enjoy! - SRS_

oooOOOooo  
.

.  
THE MOURNING AFTER

.

Heading into the heart of Salem's Center, the long black car rumbled along the paved streets like a dark panther. For the most part, it went by without a second glance by the town's people as they went about their daily tasks.

Behind the wheel of the luxury car, a raven-haired woman guided the wheel with a sure touch . . . yet, inside her mind Tessa was far from assured about the sudden turn her life had taken recently. _I've gone from being the assistant to the leader of the world's most powerful and influential mutants . . . to being outsted at a spy, by the very man who put me there in the first place!_

Glancing up into the rearview mirror, Tessa stared at the silent form of the vehicle's owner, slumped in the back seat. Emotionally drained, Charles Xavier looked less that the man she remembered; the world's most-powerful telepath, her mentor and the man who trained her for her mission with the Hellfire Club.

Only now, the mission had been interupted. For the one reason that -- for all of Tessa's vaunted ability with her computer-like mind and perfect recall -- could not have predicted would come to pass . . .

Charles' students, the X-Men, were dead.  
.

O o O

.

_**Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students,  
****Salem Center, Westchester County, New York,  
Later That Same Day...**_

.  
.

Pulling up to the main gate of Xavier's private property, Tessa braked the car to a stop next to the stone pillar on its left side. Rolling down the window, she reached out and touched the pick-up button on the small security box mounted there.

Expecting the gates to open, she was mildly surprised to see a small door open on the side of the box, through which a small metal globe with a camera lens emerged. The camera tracked towards her face before stopping, and a female voice thick with a foreign accent emitted from a hidden speaker: "_State yuir business, please?_"

Tessa leaned out and said, "I am Tessa . . . I have Professor Xavier with me-."

"_Charles!_" The voice cut Tessa off, filled with surprise and worry. A moment later, the wrought-iron gates swung slowly open. "_Bring th' car to th' mansion, Miss. At once!_" With that, the camera globe retreated into the pillar and the door snapped shut.

Blinking, the dark-haired woman dressed in a long, dark overcoat turned to look at the man sitting in the backseat of the car. "Professor?" she asked, twisting further around as she held the wheel.

His bald-head bowed, Charles Xavier said nothing in response to her query.

Sighing, Tessa turned back and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "Well, there is only one way to answer all of the questions before me . . ."

Guiding the car up along the driveway, Tessa couldn't help but remember the first time she had come to this place -- one of the more prominent, majestic homes in Salem Center -- back when Xavier had brought her here to help train her in her mutant abilities. She had gone from her old home in a war-torn country, to this place called 'America', which held some note of promise of a new life for her . . . only to learn she was to be trained for another type of 'war'. A war that involved secrets, their keeping and their discovery for future use by the man who'd confided in her.

She frowned, turning the wheel as she let the limo coast to a halt near the front doors. _I was so young and naive, back in those days!_ Tessa thought, as her eyes caught the terminus of the front drive and the smaller roadway that lead around the mansion house proper. _Xavier planted me and left me to my own devices inside the Hellfire Club. What could he need from me now?_ _He said his students were . . . dead? How? What students-?_

Her thoughts were cut off by movement to her left; the front doors of the mansion opening wide, allowing a slim, brown-haired woman dressed in a lab-coat and frock-dress to appear. This stranger moved quickly down the front steps, her low heeled shoes clicking on the marble, while her face was pinched with worry.

Killing the engine, Tessa opened the driver-side door and stepped out. "Excuse me-?"

"Forgive me! Charles!?" The woman reached out and jerked the passenger door open, all but throwing herself into the compartment inside the limo. There was a brief flurry of movement, then a silence that went on for a span of several heartbeats. Then, the woman emerged, turning to stare at Tessa, giving her long dark coat and high-heeled shoes a once-over with an analytical eye.

_A scientist of some sort? She has to be._ Tessa thought.

"Yuir . . . th' woman Charles said was-?"

"My name is Tessa. Professor Xavier did bring me out of the Hellfire Club, Miss-?"

The brown-haired woman sighed, shaking her head briefly. "I am sorry, Tessa . . . I'm Moira. Doctor Moira MacTaggart. A friend." She looked back inside the car. "Canna ye help me wi' his chair? We need t'move him inside!"

Tessa blinked, but left the questions to wait as she moved to aid Moira in unloading the powered wheelchair from the car, then to help extract the still-catatonic Xavier and put him in it. "Will the Professor be all right, Doctor?" Tessa asked. "He's been like this since-."

"Come wi' me," Moira said, after she got the chair unlocked from it's powered drive, to start pushing it towards the access ramp to the side of the front porch. "I understand ye have questions, but until I get Charles settled . . ."

Following behind, Tessa just nodded. "I understand."

Together, the two women entered the mansion and Moira quickly guided her and Xavier through the large foyer, down past a large common room, past the mansion's kitchen and a few other rooms -- one of which Tessa noted was set up like a school classroom.

Studying the brown-haired woman, Tessa noted that Moira didn't pause or show any signs of being hesitant inside this place. _Someone who knows of, or knew of Xavier, would have some knowledge of this place. _she thought logically.

Moira continued walking down the hall, until she reached a rounded segment of the hallway's wood-paneled wall. Reaching up, Moira touched a small panel, and before Tessa's eyes the curved segment rolled back to reveal a stark, metallic chamber beyond.

"Access Level Two, please," Moira said, nodding for Tessa to enter the chamber as she pulled Xavier in behind her.

_An elevator! Something Charles added, after I left?_ Tessa stepped inside, starting to open her mouth to query the Scottish woman, when the curved door slid shut quickly behind her. A moment later, the chamber dipped and she could sense the downward motion that vibrated through the floor beneath her.

"Where are we going, Doctor MacTaggart?" Tessa asked at last.

"Medical level," Moira replied. "I'll put Charles in the recovery ward, since . . . well, you'll see when we arrive."

Before Tessa could ask anything else, the elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened up onto a long, stark looking hallway; with long light panels, which illuminated the metallic-blue metal plating on all sides. Moira pushed Xavier out of the chamber, moving briskly along the hallway without another word.

_Stranger, and even more curious, yet. _Tessa stepped out and followed, her dark eyes taking in every item and detail of this new place, even as she watched Moira turn into an open doorway a few meters ahead. Walking quickly to catch up, she noted a small legend of symbols on the wall nearby: with sigils that clearly indicated "HANGAR", "TRAINING ROOM" and "STORAGE".

"Charles has expanded this place," she said softly.

Entering the room beyond the open doorway, Tessa caught sight of Moira as she was easing the Professor out of his chair, and onto a medical bed nearby. Around the room, equipment and monitors as well as cabinets of supplies and other items lined the walls and, on another bed, lay a body of a man Tessa didn't recognize.

Moving closer, she studied the man's face as best as she could, considering it was half covered with bandages. Nearly a good portion of his arms and exposed chest were as equally covered, with a few leads and tubes affixed to him leading out to several monitoring machines mounted on the bed's frame.

"Who is he?" Tessa asked, taking note of the readouts on the machines. "He's been injured, gravely."

Getting Xavier settled, Moira turned and looked at Tessa, pausing with a frown before she said, "His name's Henry . . . McCoy, a guid man an' one of Charles' first students."

Tessa turned and looked at her sharply. "One of his _latest_ students, since I was his first, to be truthful."

"Aye, yes . . . forgive me," Moira said. Sighing, she moved to stand on the other side of Henry's bed. "The poor man is barely clingin' t'life, but f'r now he's . . . well, as stable as I can make him."

Tessa nodded, her voice less harsh as she asked, "How did this happen to him? For that matter, Doctor MacTaggart, what exactly did happen here? The Professor said that his students . . . are dead?"

Moira nodded, her face pinched tight as she looked up at Tessa. "Aye . . . that is th' truth of it." She shook her head and added. "I'd better start from th' beginnin'."

Tessa nodded, her attention fixed solely on the Scottish woman.

"Charles had been discussin' wi' me in the past few years, about startin' a 'school' o' sorts," Moira explained. "A place so that young people who'd discovered they possessed abilities manifested by the mutancy gene. He never mentioned ye, by name, but not long after ye were released t'do yuir duty . . . he started recruitin' a 'class' of young people t'start trainin' here at th' mansion.

"The first students were a pretty small gaggle o' teenagers," Moira said. "Young Hank here, he was one along wi' three other fellows: Scott Summers, Robert Drake and Warren Worthington the Third. There was also a wee lass named Jean Grey, who rounded them out. Charles trained them exhaustively, makin' them learn th' large extent o' their abilities . . . an', eventually, they began to strike out as a team, t'use their powers as a means t'help people an' stop others that were attacking their fellow man."

Tessa cocked her head, raising one hand to stop Moira's talking. "These were Charles's 'X-Men' then?"

"Charles wanted them to have a unique name," Moira stated, her lips curling up with a half-smile, which vanished when she looked back down at the young man before them.

"I see." Tessa pursed her lips, filing this information away for later analysis. "How do you fit into this, Miss, and what happened to the others?"

Moira didn't look up from Hank's body. "I'm a geneticist by trade. Charles an' I knew one another, back when he was just beginnin' to explore the depth of mutancy an' it's effects, an' drawbacks. I've been advisin' him from th' sidelines . . . an', well, when th' tragedy happened-."

"Which was?" Tessa peered intently at her, gripping the side of the bed as she listened.

"Charles had . . . sensed a presence, somewhere out in th' wide Pacific," Moira said, her face falling into a dark frown. "He suspected it 'twas a new mutant manifesting on a huge scale, so he had th' X-men head out t'investigate. They came upon a lone island; uncharted an' untouched. They landed an' began t'explore it.

"At first, th' students could nae find a sign of th' source . . . until they discovered that it 'twas th' island itself that was th' mutant all along!" Moira shuddered. "Charles had been in contact wi' them, through telepathy, an' tried to guide them in subduin' th' creature. They tried somethin' -- what, I cannae say -- but from what I could get from Charles, th' entire island creature was blown off intae space . . . an', all but Hank dinae make it off in time!"

Tessa sucked in a breath, shocked to the core. "They were . . . killed, from either the pressure of sudden gravity-forces or -- for those who survived -- exposure to the vacuum of space!" Looking down at Hank, Tessa asked, "How was-?"

"From what Charles could tell me, Hank 'twas tryin' t'reach their transport craft, t'help them escape," Moira stated. "Th' upheaval was too great, and he was tossed out t'sea." She shook her head again. "It took both myself an' Charles, usin' his backup craft t'search and find him; adrift and nearly dead on the water."

Tessa looked up at Moira. "There's no chance-?" She stopped herself, sighing as she knew the futility of that question. "No. Charles would have been able to tell, if any of them were still alive."

"Aye," Moira said, crossing her arms as she looked over at Xavier -- still looking bleak and unmoving. "This has come as a hard blow t'him. Over th' years, the boys an' Jean . . . they became more than just students t'him. They were nearly th' children, well, that he ne'er had." Looking at Tessa, Moira said, "It's nae goin' t'be an easy road, but . . . Charles brought ye here, t'help him recover an' -- God's willin'! -- begin t'rebuild again."

"Rebuild?"

"Aye," Moira said. "Rebuild th' X-men. It 'twas as big a part o' his dream, as 'twas makin' th' world safe f'r all people wi' mutant abilities."

Tessa blinked, lifting one hand as she asked, "How can that be done, Doctor MacTaggart? Charles is in no shape to do much of anything -- and, believe me, I can tell . . . I have the means." She tapped the side of her head. "Besides, what use am I to him, or you? I can analyze, recall facts . . . but, beyond that?"

"Surely, ye can help t'train-?"

Tessa shook her head. "I trained to kill, back in my native homeland," she said coolly. "I doubt Charles would want me to teach that to any student he deemed fit to learn in this place." Looking down at Hank's comatose form, she muttered crossly, "Damn him . . . he should've let me stay!"

Moira started to reach towards Tessa. "Miss Tessa . . . I dinnae think that Charles brought ye here, even as one o' his firsts, if he didnae think ye had more t'offer-."

Just then, Hank's breathing started to turn ragged; wet and soggy, as the machines next to his bed began beeping urgently.

"Oh no!" Moira gasped, looking at the display screens. "He's gettin' worse!" She turned and started to move towards a cabinet. "I've got t'get him intae th' operatin' room! Tessa! Ye've got tae-!?"

Turning back, Moira was shocked to see that Tessa was leaning over the stricken young man; one hand bracing on the bedside, while the other was pressed down on top of Hank's chest. The dark-haired woman was staring fixedly at Hank; her eyes seeming to glow from within as she stood there.

"Tessa?! What in th' Devil-!?" Moira moved back to the side of the bed, one arm raised to knock Tessa off of the injured man-!

"No, Moira. Don't."

Gasping, Moira turned to stare in shock as Xavier -- now sitting upright on his bed -- was staring intently at the scene unfolding before them. "Charles?"

"Leave her be," Xavier said. His eyes wide, the bald telepath had no sign of the former apathy that had gripped him since leaving the Hellfire Club.

"But, Hank-!" Moira turned back towards the other bed . . . and was rendered speechless at the sight before her.

Tessa's hand, as well as the surrounding flesh on Hank's chest, was covered in a strange, orange-white glow that was echoed in the young woman's eyes. Hank's body was also contorting and writhing, while his jaw was clenched in agony. In moments, the glow began to spread, until the young man was covered from head to toe with it.

_What in all th' . . . ?_ Moira was rooted to the floor, watching as the tableau continued to unfold. _What's she doin' to th' lad?_

A second after her last thought, Moria watched in awe as something emerged from underneath the edges of Tessa's hand: several tufts of deep, blue fur, sprouting from Henry's skin! Without pause, the growth of fuzz spread outwards, racing over Hank's chest like a runaway culture of spores. As well, the young man's muscles seemed to enlarge several times bigger than they had previously been.

"Nnnn-n-n-a-_aaagh!_" Hank groaned, his face twisting up as the blue swath crawled up his neck and face; which turned more bestial, along with several of his teeth lengthening into sharp, canine points.

Moira shot a look at Xavier. "Charles! What is happening here!?"

"Peace, Moira," Xavier said, raising one hand to calm her. "I believe . . . yes, it's nearly over."

"Over? What is nearly over?!"

Before Xavier could reply, there was a sudden gasp and a cry from Tessa -- who'd been standing there, trembling with the effort as she stood over the transforming body of Hank McCoy -- as she jerked her hand away from his chest, grasping it as the glow faded away into nothing. Panting, Tessa staggered backwards and leaned against another medical bed, blinking her eyes as she looked down at her hand.

"Tessa?" Moira started to move again, stepping towards the young woman. "Wha- . . . what did ye do tae him?"

Before Tessa could form the reply on her lips, a deep voice spoke from Hank's direction: "P . . . p-p-Pro . . . Profess-s-s-sor?"

Turning, Moira blinked as she stared hard at the prone form now lying there. "Henry!? God, man! Are . . . are ye-?"

"M-M-Moira? Is . . . that you? H-how did-?" The voice stopped, then started again, asking, "Where . . . am I?"

"Yuir . . . yuir back at the school, Henry," Moira said, trying to gather her nerves. "Charles an' I . . . we, well . . . we found ye, an' brought ye home again."

"Then . . . what happened to . . . the others?" There was a pause, as the body rose up and began turning to examine itself. "Dear . . . Lord! What . . . what happened to me!?"

"It was thanks to . . . a friend, Henry," Xavier said, nodding as he looked on. "She found a means to heal your injuries, and . . . apparently, it has done something, more, to you."

With Xavier, Moira and Tessa looking on, Hank looked down at his hands and gasped, seeing them now covered with blue fur and tipped with long, thick claws. Flexing them, the young man slowly brought them up to his face, where he felt the other changes that had been wrought there.

"Oh my, stars . . . _and garters!_"  
.

To Be Continued...


	3. Chapter 3

X-MEN : 103

"Start All Over, Again..."

by Stephen R. Sobotka Jr. (SSobotkaJr) 2006 ©

DISCLAIMER : This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "X-MEN". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is my take on the X-Men Universe . . . be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead.

Also of note, sad news reached me while I was preparing for Chapter Four: Dave Cockrum, one of the more influential writers/creators that helped set up the reboot of X-Men (starting with Giant-Sized X-Men #1) has died. For all intents, this story is now a tribute to him and his talent.

Thank you, Mr. Cockrum . . . you will be missed greatly.

For now, Enjoy the story! - SRS

oooOOOooo

START ALL OVER, AGAIN...

_Two Weeks, After Returning to The Institute . . . ._

"Once mair 'round th' course, Hank. if ye please?"

Peering down at the readouts, Dr. Moira MacTaggart frowned slightly, making notes on a nearby clipboard as she lifted her eyes to peer through the reinforced glass panel in front of her command console. The Scottish researcher watched as the subject of this session -- Henry McCoy -- flipped, rolled and leaped through a succession of elevated platforms, moving hoops and swinging bars and ropes. Previous reports, which Moira had gleaned from his student files, indicated that the young man running his paces in the modified chamber beyond the observation room was doing as well -- perhaps markedly better than -- his prior performance level at this particular obstacle course.

What made it different this time, was the fact that Henry didn't exactly look like himself!

Watching, Moira felt a twinge of sorrow for Henry. The young mutant -- barely surviving the event that killed his fellow teammates and friends -- had undergone a radical transformation. No longer just muscled and largely-formed, Hank was now covered from head to toe in dark-blue fur; giving him a more bestial appearance.

As he vaulted into a very-tricky set of rings and ropes, the door to the observation room behind her opened. Turning, Moira nodded in greeting to the young raven-haired woman named Tessa. "You seem t'be settlin' in all right, Tessa?"

"Professor Xavier's home was my home, prior to my insertion into my previous assignment," Tessa said, tugging on the hem on the top part of the sleeveless bodysuit she was wearing.

"I see yuir takin' advantage of th' Professor's clothin' storage?" she asked, looking Tessa up and down to take in the high-heeled boots with slim straps and the black leather belt cinched around her waist; complete with a X-shaped buckle.

Tessa shrugged. "Some of the other uniforms were too colorful for my tastes."

Moira sighed. "A bit o' residual touch from th' Hellfire Club, I'd think," she said. "I attended one o' their lil' parties in London once -- as a guest of a friend -- an', I must say those outfits they had ye wearin'-."

"The patrons and membership of the Hellfire Club have tastes that are on a more . . . . decadent level, Miss MacTaggart. I simply wore what was necessary to maintain my position," Tessa said simply. Moving next to the geneticist, she peered into the chamber beyond, watching Henry as he tackled a series of parallel bars. "How is Henry doing?"

"Weel . . . th' lad shows ev'ry sign o' bein' fully recovered," Moira said. "I've run nearly ev'ry test an' medical check-up . . . an', aside from th' external 'change', I cannae find a thing wrong wi' him."

Tessa pursed her lips. "I've reviewed his performance files. He's shows a marked increase in strength, dexterity and agility."

"Aye, but . . . tis the cosmetic changes that concern me," Moira said. "Though, he has proven t'be quite resilient. He was in a bit of a state of shock over his transformation . . . but, now-?"

Watching as Henry vaulted up a set of moving platforms, Tessa made the observation, saying, "He does appear to have taken it in stride, for the time being."

"I shall have t'keep my eyes on him . . . for the nonce," Moira said, sighing as she leaned over to tap the intercom. "Hank, 'tis time t'stop for now. Come up an' join me here, please?" Moira then turned and faced Tessa, crossing her arms across her chest. "I still cannae understand it. How did ye . . . do, what ye did tae him, lass? I've ne'er seen such a, well, level of transmogrification before!"

Tessa looked at Moira, before she seemed to pull her focus inwards. "I . . . cannot explain it. When I saw Henry in distress, I looked down to try to assess his condition, to aid whatever you had planned," she explained. "Then, for some reason . . . it was like I could 'see' through him. To the part of him that was rooted to his mutancy . . . but, there was more than just what had been there before." She rubbed her arms and shook her head. "I cannot say much more than that, Miss MacTaggart."

"Firstly, this is somethin' we'll need tae inspect further," Moira said firmly. "'Tis possibly some latent ability o' yours, somethin' ye ne'er discovered before."

Tessa nodded. "Secondly?"

"Call me Moira, please . . . with ye workin' f'r Charles again, we cannae be expected t'be on just professional terms now."

A small flicker of a smile fell across Tessa's lips. "Very well . . . Moira."

Just then, the door to the room opened, admitting the furry, broad form of Henry McCoy; who had a gym towel draped over his shoulder. "How am I looking, Moira?" he asked.

"Weel, as far as I can tell," the brown-haired scientist admitted, "yer as fit as a fiddle, an' showin' no sign o' distress or any o' yer previous injury."

With a smile, Henry said, "A miracle, and a welcome one indeed." He looked at Tessa, and nodded, "I appear to owe you my life, Miss."

"There is no need for that, Henry," Tessa said, her tone mild yet clearly touched with a bit of humility.

"So, what are we to do now, ladies?" Henry asked.

"F'r now, I need th' two of ye to go to the main ready-room," Moira said, reaching over to pick up her clipboard. "I need t'see tae Charles. I'll join ye in a short bit, then?"

oooOOOooo

In the ready room, Tessa sat at one of the consoles that ringed the round, low table in the center of the room, her eyes fixed on a pair of monitors before her as her slim fingers made short, quick movements on some controller keypads. Her face a placid mask, it glowed with a pale cast from the light of the screens; highlighted by the green hue of the symbols scrolling past.

Sitting next to her, Henry gave the young woman a curious glance. "May I ask, what you are searching for, Miss Tessa?"

"Information, Henry." Tessa sighed. "Even though I'd wish to entertain the hope that Charles will fully recover soon from his loss, I've calculated for the eventual possibility that I will have to aid him in rebuilding a new . . . class."

Henry blinked, then nodded. "I see . . . well, while I am not totally against such an action, it's just . . . how will we even begin to rebuild another-?"

"Information." Tessa looked at the young man with a steady gaze. "Through information, I can begin to structure a database of possible candidates, from what files I can access from the Professor's own computers. We will also need further exploration of outside sources, and what we can accrue for ourselves through our own personal observations."

Henry looked shocked. "That will be an incredible amount of information to gather and sort through!"

She peered back down at the screens. "I've already compiled nearly seventy-percent of the data, as we've been speaking." Tessa gave him a calm, if slightly superior look. "My mind is able to function at higher levels of processing than your average person. Coupled with photographic memory and perfect recall ability, I can analyze nearly ten times more data and extrapolate a multitude of possible resolutions."

"Oh, my stars . . . no wonder the Professor-!" Henry closed his mouth, then clearing his throat he asked, "So, what have you been able to produce, with the data at hand?"

Sighing, Tessa leaned back, letting the automated programs she'd created run on their own. "Currently, I've identified nearly twenty-seven mutant contacts and possible mutant anomalies that could serve for Xavier's needs," she said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "The problem lies in the filtering out of all negative factors . . . namely, age, experience, distance, location relative to the Institute-."

"That's all well an' guid, Tessa," came the voice of Moira; who entered the room with a deep sigh of her own. "Tho', Ay'm a wee mair concerned wi' just findin' suitable students t'fit in wi' what Charles had in mind when he founded his first 'class', rather than just takin' anythin' we find off th' cuff, so t'speak. 'Tis one thing t'go off after someone wi'out a bloody clue t'how their mutancy works . . . what we need are young people, wi' a little mair experience under their collective belts."

Nodding, Tessa turned and tapped a few keys on the console. "Making adjustments."

"Moira, are we doing the right thing, by the Professor, I mean?" Henry asked. "Personally, I doubt anyone could fill the shoes my . . . my friends, left behind, but-?"

"Aye understand what ye mean, Hank," Moira said gently. "But, e'en wi' Scott, Jean and th' other's gone, we'd do them mair disservice t'just give up, an' ne'er make th' attempt."

"Yes," Henry said at length. "That is true."

"Luik at this objectively, Hank," Moira offered, holding up one hand. "Th' overall goal is t'make certain Charles' dream doesn't die wi' the souls of our young friends . . . f'r Ay'm certain, we're it Scott or Jean, or e'en Warren or Robert in yuir place, they'd want t'make sure th' sacrifice o' the others 'twasn't all in vain."

At that point, the console in front of Tessa chirped a strident note. "We have a partial list -- small, for all the data currently available -- but it should be enough to start from, Moira."

Both Moira and Henry moved over to peer over Tessa's shoulder at the selected screen. "Guid work, Tessa . . . mercy! Only six possible contacts found? Small, t'be certain."

Henry nodded. "But clearly within what you specified, Moira!" He squinted, arching his fuzzy brow before he reached around to tap the surface of the lit screen. "three abroad . . . and three here within North America."

Tessa nodded. "How will we begin the process of selection and such, Moira?"

"Ahh, that's gonna be a mite tricky," the brown-haired Scotts-woman said softly. "Charles told me he actually approached Scott and Jean first, then had th' two o' them accompany him as he went t' see Warren, Bobby an' Hank here." Rubbing her chin, she muttered, "Ay'm not sure Charles is up f'r another recruitin' flight around th' world."

Henry looked pointedly at Tessa. "Could not Miss Tessa and I go and find the contacts in Europe, Africa and further abroad?" He beamed. "After all, Tessa does have knowledge of the mutants we seek-."

"Which is all well an' guid, Hank! But, fer th' nonce . . . ye, well, don't exactly present th' proper . . . image of one o' Charles' students now," Moira said, eying Henry's blue-furred form.

"That will work to our advantage," Henry replied. "After all, if the school can accept someone with my current appearance, we could certainly accept someone that may be more odd looks, hm?"

Tessa nodded. "Henry does state a valid point."

Moira nodded, but frowned. "He does, but Aye worry just how th' rest o' the world is going t'react . . . well, in any case, we canna be beggars or choosers! Wi' just th' three of us-."

"Do you not mean 'four' Moira?"

Turning, the trio stared in shock at the sight of Xavier -- seated in his wheelchair -- at the room's entrance. "Charles! Aye thought ye were-!?"

"I was resting, thank you, Moira," Xavier replied. "Still, for all that rest has done for me . . . I cannot sit by while you intend to go off to seek others to restore what was . . . lost, to me and to this place." Shaking his bald head, he added ruefully, "It is also hard to sit by, when I could hear everything that was being planned, after all."

Moira stared hard at him. "I should've told them t'guard their thoughts mair, Charles . . . if this has upset ye-?"

With a wan smile, Charles waved her concern aside. "I will not lie, in saying that I still grieve for Scott and the others." His expression grew sad for a moment. "Still . . . you said it best before, my dear friend. To give up, to never attempt again to do what I'd originally planned . . . ?"

"We would never ask you to go, if you dinnae think ye were ready, Charles," Moira said.

"There is no need to ask. Grieving or not, this school must continue to function," Xavier said firmly. "To do that, we must have students. So . . . show me what you have begun, so far?"

oooOOOooo

_The Greater Serengeti Plain,_

_Near Tanzania, Africa, A Few Days Later . . . ._

The African sun overhead turned the air into a virtual oven . . . with all the heat and the dust abundant on the road from Arusha, it made travel overland via a modern conveyance, such as an automobile, a right major trial. Even for someone as cool and detached as Tessa, who was sweating copiously in her dark khaki outfit and boots, it was clear to Henry -- sitting beside her, sweltering in his blue-fur -- that the sooner they reached their destination, the better.

For his own part, Henry tried to think 'cool' as he peered at the scrawled map spread out next to the modern map he'd unfolded across his legs. "I don't think that man back in the village was all that trustworthy," he said, reaching up to wipe the back of his hand over his face. "Considering what his asking price was."

"He did swear that this map would lead us to . . . 'the village of the Goddess'," Tessa said.

"Can you be sure?" Henry asked. "I can't make heads or tails of this-."

"I correlated his directions, along with an overlay of this map with one I saw once of the Serengheti region." Tessa gave Henry a reassuring look. "Benefit of a good memory. The village we seek is near the Mara River region."

Henry peered at the map again. "I should trust your memories better than this map, then . . . its age makes it difficult to correlate the exact location." He sighed. "We should have remained in the 'Blackbird', however."

"We couldn't have guided it over Kenya airspace, without attracting attention to ourselves." Tessa frowned. "Some of which would've been a hindrance to our mission. There are a few local warlords that don't appreciate such incursions on their territories."

"Ahh, point taken," Henry said. "Still, it would've been nice to know that the contact would be in a more temperate climate! I should've let Moira come here, and gone with the Professor," he said sourly.

"Xavier felt Moira's presence was needed far more in Chicago, than yours," Tessa said simply. "Your current state of appearance would work against our goal of recruiting the first contact there, or so the information on her tells me . . . no offense meant, Henry."

"None taken, Tessa . . . I am only just beginning to realize that this . . . condition I'm in will have some getting used to; if not just myself, than more so for the rest of the public." Henry said. Peering ahead of them, he shaded his eyes and asked, "Is that the-?"

"The trail we need to take, yes," Tessa said, nodding as she turned the steering wheel. "Hold on. The road looks rather rough!"

oooOOOooo

An hour later, near a small duhka, Tessa and Henry abandoned their vehicle and set out on foot towards their final destination.

Trudging along the dirt trail through the tall grasses, the two explorers weren't much worse off than they had been on the road . . . save that they were fully exposed to the harsh sunlight, gritty dirt and dust, as well as the native insects. Seemingly swarms of buzzing, biting, native insects!

"Ow!" Tessa snapped, swatting at her forearm before she sighed and glanced at the small map in her hands. "I should have packed a stronger repellant."

Beside her, Henry shook his head. "I'd trade you all of your bug bites, for one blessed hour of relief from this heat!" He snorted, pursing his lips to blow across his nose.

"Fur seems to be a natural deterent for parasites. Still, we'll be out of this, and gone once we find out contact," Tessa said frankly.

Eventually, the duo came through a break in the grass, and were able to spy a modest-sized collection of thatched buildings behind a tall, wooden fence.

"We have . . . arrived, it seems," Henry said.

"Apparently." Tessa squinted, peering at the small clusters of natives moving about inside the village. "We need to find our contact. I'll go down first, and see if I can speak to their headman or chieftain." She started forward, only to have Henry clutch at her hand.

"Should not we both go? It might not be safe-."

"Henry, I believe I might make a less-threatening impression, if I go alone first." She fixed him with a steady gaze. "Remain here . . . if any trouble does arise, I will call for you."

Letting go reluctantly, the blue-furred young man nodded. "Very well . . . but, do not take too long, Tessa." He looked around briefly, before adding. "I fear I may be mistaken for a gorilla, if we tarry much!"

Nodding, Tessa said, "I shall." With that, she moved off and started walking towards the village.

She'd barely gotten within a few yards of the protective wooden wall, when a small cluster of children -- playing some game in the dirt -- looked up, spied her and ran chattering loudly into the village-center. Several adults came running out of some of the huts, adding their voices as she paused at a gap in the fence; a few brandishing spears and _simi_-knives as they stared at this pale-skinned intruder.

Taking a calculating sweep of all of the adults, Tessa lifted her hands, holding them up to show she was unarmed. "Forgive me, I do not mean to cause any alarm," she said. "I wish to speak to your headman, for I come seeking someone."

The villagers didn't appear to understand her; staring, while several more men with weapons emerged from other places inside the village, to form a living wall in front of her.

"Please, I need to speak to your leader. Do any of you speak English?"

A couple of the men in front of this gathered mass began whispering to each other, gesturing towards her with a spear tip. She saw one of the women -- watching from behind the shelter of a hut -- move off and vanish from view, but could hear retreating footsteps moving off away into the distance.

Taking a risk, Tessa moved forward a step towards the gathered men. "I must ask again-!" At that, several of the men moved towards her, brandishing their spears in both hands with the sharp tips aimed at her. One of them said something sharply, and the rank of weapons moved closer towards her.

"No, I am not a threat!" Tessa stepped back, keeping her hands up to show her intent, but the men continued to advance. "I do not wish to harm any of you," she said sharply. "I simp-!"

Another man shouted something in Swahili, before he urged with gestures and his own spear for the rest of the armed men to close in on her. They only got to take one more step . . . before a dark-blue body sailed down from a height to land between them, and with a loud bellow like a lion's roar Henry snapped one hand out; swiping in a wide arc to knock several of the spears out of the hostile men's hands.

"Henry?!" Tessa was surprised at his sudden appearance.

"Sorry, Tessa! Curse of having sharp hearing," he replied, keeping himself facing the now startled villagers. "Back off, now!"

Several of the men started yammering, but none of them gave ground before the blue-furred mutant's ferocious appearance.

Tessa moved to put a hand on Henry's shoulder. "Don't provoke them further!" she warned. "We won't be able to find the person we're looking for, if we aren't welcome here!"

Keeping himself crouched defensively before her, Henry muttered, "Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but I believe our welcome is long-since worn out, Tessa!" He made another slashing motion at the half-ring of men, making them step back another pace.

"We cannot leave until we at least speak to the village leader," Tessa said. "At least so we know if the one we're seeking is actually here."

Before Henry could respond to that line of thought, there was a sudden airburst in the middle of this African-standoff: a heavy gust of wind that drove all parties away from each other . . . followed by a shadow that fell across the two mutants, cast from the skies above!

"Henry!" Tessa landed on her rump in the dirt, barely avoiding getting pancaked by her blue-furred companion, as he sprawled out next to her. "Are you all right!?"

Shaking his head, Henry started to speak; "Ow! I-!"

A crackle of electric fire -- lightning! -- cut off the rest of his words, followed by a woman's voice that called out from above: "Who are you strangers, to come and threaten these people!?"

Looking up -- Henry in shock, Tessa in fascination -- the two watched as a dark-skinned woman, clad in native dress, descended slowly with a regal grace; her long, white hair whipped by a vortex of moving air, as her face lay wreathed in a cool, foreboding mask. Landing on bare feet, this woman stood with a commanding air, staring hard at them with eyes that faded from a bright white glow into a pair of cerulean orbs that crackled with intensity.

"Speak! Who are you to threaten my village?"

Henry gulped, before muttering softly, "Oh, my stars and garters!"

Tessa said simply, "I believe . . . we have found our first contact."

To Be Continued...


	4. Chapter 4

X-MEN : 103  
"Recruitment, Part I"

by Stephen R. Sobotka Jr. (SSobotkaJr) 2006 ©

DISCLAIMER : This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "X-MEN". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is my take on the X-Men Universe . . . be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead.

Enjoy! - SRS

oooOOOooo

RECRUITMENT, PART I

_.  
.  
The Village of the Goddess,  
The Serengheti, Africa . . . ._

The voice of the Goddess cut through the arid air. "Speak! Who are you to threaten my village and its people?"

Staring up from where they were kneeling in the dust, the two mutants named Tessa and Henry McCoy were briefly awestruck before the presence of this cocoa-skinned woman, standing before them. Having traveled nearly halfway across the globe from Professor Xavier's Institute, the two had been on the search for one of six possible mutants; individuals that could help to rebuild the former team of adventurers, known as the X-Men.

However, in traveling to this distant location in Africa, Tessa and Henry hadn't expected this sort of contact to appear!

Gathering her wits, the dark-haired telepath rose to one knee and said, "We are travelers . . . our intent was not to cause any harm here."

The white-haired woman peered at Henry briefly. "Why did he attack them, then?"

"He was only protecting me. I did inquire to speak to the leader of these people," Tessa explained. "I admit, I am not fluent in these people's native tongue, and that is the source of this . . . unwarranted display of hostility."

The woman turned to look at the half-ring of African men -- who were still tense, holding their spears and simis at the ready -- and, with a gesture and a few spoken words of Swahili, she watched as they slowly lowered their weapons. "The chieftain is away, at another village just now . . . in his absence, you may speak to me."

Tessa nodded, motioning for Henry to collect himself and rise with her. "I am thankful for this opportunity . . . my name is Tessa, and this is Henry McCoy."

The white-haired woman blinked. "This . . . beast, has a name?"

With an indignant huff, Henry scowled at the woman. "Madame, I can assure you, while I may look like a beast, I am still very much a man!"

With a surprised expression that quickly turned apologetic, the African woman said, "Forgive me . . . Henry McCoy. I meant no insult, but your appearance-."

"It is no mere matter of consequence, Madame," Henry replied, waving one large, clawed hand. "Were our roles reversed, well . . . I understand your reaction, um . . . might I inquire as to what your name is?"

"These people know me only as the Goddess," the dark-skinned woman said. "My true name, is Ororo. Ororo Munroe."

Tessa's eyes unfocused briefly. "Munroe . . . there was a photojournalist, named David Munroe, known to have married an African woman. They were thought to have been killed during a part of recent hostilities in the Northern African region."

Ororo nodded, her face becoming dark with the memory. "I was a small child then . . . and, the memory is something I do not relish in the retelling." She cocked her head, her blue eyes fixed on Tessa. "How is it you know this?"

Tessa said simply. "I have the ability to recall information from memory . . . it is part of what makes up my mutancy; to commit to mind all that I read, see and hear."

Her face lighting up in comprehension, Ororo said, "Ahh, I see. You are a sage, then!"

"After a fashion, yes."

Ororo turned then, and spoke again to the people watching her exchange with Tessa and Henry. A few of the armed men said something in reply, but then the entire group dispersed and moved away, back into the heart of the village. Facing Tessa and her companion, she said, "Come, walk with me. Tell me why you have come here."

Moving in step with the tall African woman, Tessa cast a quick glance at Henry -- who merely smiled in encouragement -- before she said, "We've come because we are seeking someone, that we believe could help us in a very important venture. We believe that person is you, Ororo Munroe."

Ororo looked at Tessa, puzzled. "Me? Why are you thinking this?"

"Because, of what you are. You are a mutant, like us."  
.  
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oooOOOooo  
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_The Home of Carmen Pryde, Deerfield, Illinois, USA . . . ._

"Professor Xavier," Carmen Pryde said at length. "I've never even heard of this 'Institute' of yours . . . much less why I should even consider what you're proposing!"

Sitting in the living room of the Pryde's home, Professor Charles Xavier kept his hands folded before him, while he studied the man standing at the mantle of the fireplace in front of him. "I understand your feelings, Mr. Pryde-."

"I don't think you do," Carmen said brusquely. "Things . . . haven't gone well for me lately here. My wife . . . Kitty's mother, she . . . she's separated from me, and I've been trying my best to provide for my daughter, while we work things out between us." The bearded man faced Xavier, frowning. "Now, you come here, suggesting that the best thing for Kitty is to ship her off to this . . . institute of yours? Why? She's doing well enough in her school here."

Charles looked to Moira, who was seated next to him on the Pryde's couch. "Charles wasn't implyin' that yuir daughter is doin' poorly in her academics, Mister Pryde," she said. "It has come tae our attention . . . that, recently th' lass has begun tae demonstrate some, well . . . strange abilities."

Carmen blinked. "How . . . how did you know-?"

"I make it my business to know, Mister Pryde. I know that your daughter has had some unexplained circumstances happen as of late," Charles said. "Unexplained blackouts, or so I've been told,"

"Well, yes. Kitty's told me such things . . . we've been to several doctors." Carmen crossed his arms and shook his head. "They can't account for the cause of her blackouts, since she's practically healthy as a horse."

"Just what has Kitty said has happened during these 'blackouts', Mister Pryde?" Charles asked.

"Nothing of consequence, but . . . she's said that she's found herself in one room, then in others when she's aware once again. Once, she'd come home and gone straight upstairs . . . and then five minutes later, she came out of our dining room, asking how she got there."

Charles nodded. "Tell me, is Kitty's bedroom directly above your dining room?"

"Yes."

"Has she been subject tae strong head pain, or spasms?"

"She's complained of a few severe headaches. I assumed they were simple migraines, but why-?"

"Mister Pryde, I believe I can surmise what has happened to your daughter," Charles said, brushing the man's question aside. "However, we would like to speak to Kitty ourselves, if that is permissible?"

"'Tis a means tae better learn what we can, of what ultimately is happenin' tae the lass, sir." Moira nodded. "Is Kitty here?"

Carmen nodded. "I don't know about this . . . still," he murmured, before turning towards the staircase running behind the living room entrance. "Kitty? Can you come down here, please?" he called out.

A moment later, the sound of sock-clad feet resounded down the stairwell, preceding the appearance of a young girl -- sixteen years old, with dark, inquisitive eyes and long, brown hair -- who quickly descended them, before stepping into the living room. Dressed in a pale yellow T-shirt and denim jeans, the girl paused when she caught sight of Charles and Moira. "Yes, Dad?"

"Kitty . . . this is Professor Charles Xavier and Doctor MacTaggart," Carmen said, nodding towards the two sitting there. "They've come . . . because they think they know what's causing your blackouts."

Blinking, Kitty faced Charles with keen interest, and a little trepidation. "Oh?"

"Yes, Kitty," Charles said, smiling gently as he motioned for her to come further into the room. "Please, won't you join us?"

Getting a reassuring nod from her father, Kitty stepped around a plush chair and took a seat on the edge of its cushion. Propping her hands on her knees, she looked at both Charles and Moira in turn. "So . . . are you two some kind of specialists?"

"In a manner o' speakin', chield," Moira said. "My field o' study is genetics."

"My work deals with . . . related studies of said genetics," Charles said. "I believe, that your periods of blacking out, are caused by something that is happening to you, on a genetic level." He paused. "Kitty . . . if I may be so bold, have you been experiencing an unusual level of headaches as of late?"

She nodded her head. "Yes sir . . . sometimes I can barely stand it when one hits."

"Yuir father has told us that these blackouts sometimes put ye out, tae th' point ye don't recall walkin' tae another room," Moira prompted. "Do these blackouts occur when ye have a bad headache?"

Cocking her head, Kitty thought for a moment. "To be honest, yeah. The last one I remember was a doozy."

"What that before you found yourself in the dining room?" Charles asked.

Kitty nodded. "Funny thing . . . I can remember I came home from dance class that day," she said. "Our instructor had been pretty rough on us, too. By the time I got to my room to change, my head was throbbing something terrible!"

Carmen looked at Xavier. "Could it be just stress? Her mother often told me Kitty needed to slow down with some of her activities."

"Stress is a factor, Mister Pryde . . . though in Kitty's case, I'm presuming these periods of blacking out, prior to a onset of a headache . . . mean something more than simple teenaged over-activity." With that, Charles stared hard at Kitty. "Kitty, I want you to help me further, so we may get a final analysis of your . . . condition."

Kitty looked at her father briefly; her face filled with worry. "Um, sure, just . . . what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to relax," Charles said softly. "Then, try to remember . . . how you felt, back when these severe headaches first manifested themselves." He continued to stare at the young woman, but inside his head, he was using his telepathy to gently probe around the edges of Kitty's mind.

Frowning, Kitty did as she was told; the bridge of her nose pinching as she focused her memory back. Under Charles' awareness, he listened telepathically as Kitty ran the images of that day back over inside her head:

_Brianne was really pushing us . . . Geez! I never felt more sore than that day . . . the ride back on the bus was a total bummer, too . . . that test in Algebra was on my mind . . . ugh, I think that's when I first got the start of that headache . . . no, wasn't it spooling up, after that last set in the studio?"_

Watching from the side, Carmen frowned at the sudden, intense expression that filled his daughter's face. "Kitty?"

Moira held up a hand. "Hssh, please . . . let th' girl concentrate."

Without warning, Kitty reached up and grabbed the side of her head, hissing through her teeth as she jerked back slightly. "Ow . . . I . . . Ow!"

"Concentrate, Kitty," Xavier said. "Don't suppress the pain, or fight it."

Shaking her head briefly, Kitty murmured, "I . . . I don't . . . it hurts, too . . . too much! I . . . the headache . . . back! Stronger!"

Carmen started to move towards his daughter. "Honey, stop it . . . if it hurts-!"

"Nae, mon," Moira said. "Charles knows what 'tis best. Let Kitty work through this, Mister Pryde. 'Tis crucial!"

"Crucial!? To let her suffer like that?!"

"Nae," Moira said firmly, watching as Kitty's face twisted further as the pain appeared to grow at an alarming rate. "Tae let her remove the last barrier . . . tae break through, as it were."

Holding her head now with both hands, Kitty was moaning at the pain now racing through her head; the sparks now whirling together into a firestorm of agony. Whimpering, she was struggling inside.

Yet, through it all, Xavier was calmly coaxing her through the experience . . . at times, it was like she could feel him there, inside her mind. _Let it go, Kitty . . . do not resist it. You are at the edge of the threshold; standing before the last point that keeps you from breaking out._

_Breaking out!?_ Kitty thought, unable to speak the words aloud. _Out . . . into what?_

_Into what you were meant to become . . . now, stop resisting, and let yourself go! Don't fight the pain. Flow into it._

At that moment, as if something inside her mind clicked into place., Kitty suddenly felt the pain surge to an unbearable height . . . then, miraculously, it was gone! With a gasp of surprise, she felt the pressure inside her head dissipate like fog before a bright sunrise.

"Oh my . . . God!" Carmen Pryde looked at his daughter in shock. "Kitty!"

Shaking her head, Kitty slowly mumbled, "What? Don't shout, Dad . . . geez! That was . . . what? What's wrong?" She'd opened her eyes, looking up at the three adults; both Moira and her father bore looks of concern -- his touched with fear -- while Xavier looked at her with more of a pleased expression.

"Kitty . . . darling, what-? How-?" Carmen stuttered.

"Huh? How did I . . . what?" Confused, Kitty looked down at herself. At first, she didn't see anything different . . . until she saw her legs, sticking out from the bottom of the chair! "What!? Wha-whu . . . what's happened to me!?"

"Easy, Kitty," Xavier said soothingly. "It is going to be all right."

"All right!?" Carmen looked like he was about to drop into a full-blown panic. "How in the world did she-!?"

"It is part of what she is, Mister Pryde," Xavier said, never taking his eyes off of the young girl. "Your daughter has managed to fully manifest her latency abilities . . . her mutancy, as it were." He added with a slight touch of detachment, "Though this was something I wasn't expecting her to manifest."

Moira was watching Kitty closely; as the young girl appeared to be imbedded in the body of the chair. "It appears she's merged herself physically into th' chair, Charles."

Kitty looked at herself in alarm. "Oh no . . . how, how do I get out of th-this!?"

"Concentrate, Kitty . . . just focus on yourself. You did so before the breakthrough, which is what triggered this manifestation of your ability," Xavier said calmly. "Just focus . . . use your mind to will yourself away from the body of the chair. Do it . . . just relax, let it happen and don't force it too harshly."

Taking his words and tone like a mantra, Kitty closed her eyes and let herself go into a calmer state of mind. Before the eyes of the three adults, her body appeared to drift slowly upwards . . . moving through the fabric of the chair, rising until her body came completely free and landed softly on the cushion. As she came to rest, Kitty looked down at herself and then quickly stood up; moving away from the chair as she reached down to feel her legs.

Carmen blinked and let out a relieved sigh. "Great mercy!" He moved to stand next to his daughter, looking at her with concern. "Kitty . . . are you, all right?"

Nodding slowly, Kitty said, "Yeah . . . I think so. But, what just happened to me?"

"'Tis as Charles said, cheild," Moira said with a nod. "Ye've managed to manifest a mutancy; an ability that set ye apart from th' rest o' humanity. Ye've made a step intae a new world f'r yerself, now."

"One that cannot be reversed, I am sorry to say," Xavier said softly. "Kitty, you have been given a gift; something that you can either ignore . . . or put to use, for the betterment of yourself, and the world at large."

"I can?" Kitty looked at Xavier with an incredulous expression.

"Wait, just how can this . . . this thing, be beneficial for my daughter?" Carmen looked at Xavier, with an almost-accusory expression. "Just how can . . . well, falling through things be good for her?"

"T'will only be tae the cheild's benefit, if she learns tae control this ability, Mister Pryde," Moira said, stepping around to stand next to Kitty and Xavier. "Otherwise, she may do herself or someone else harm."

Carmen blanched at that thought. "So . . . what can be done, so she learns to better control it?"

Xavier smiled. "I believe I offered such a solution, prior to Kitty's arrival, Mister Pryde."

"Your school?" Carmen blinked. "You mean . . . you can, help, Kitty?"

"Only with yer permission, tae allow the girl to attend," Moira said gently. "Think of what it could mean . . . a chance fer yuir daughter to maintain her education, while learnin' tae control her ability."

"Well . . . I guess . . . I can see how, now-."

"Ultimately, you and Kitty must decide what is best for her," Xavier said simply. "We are not hear to force her, more to offer her a choice."

Carmen looked at his daughter, who was staring down at her hands with a concerned expression. "Kitty . . . I'm not completely sure, but . . . do you think you'd want to do something like this?"

Kitty looked up at her father, her dark eyes blinking before she turned to face Xavier. "Is this . . . I mean, you'll help me control this, before I get myself into . . . I, um," she said, trying to find the words she wanted to say.

"Kitty, you make the choice yourself," Charles said, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. "I will only say this; if you let me help you, I can promise you will begin to learn of things that you've never imagined before in your entire lifetime. If you can trust me, I will do everything to help you understand what it means to be what you . . . what we both are." He smiled and said directly into her mind, _We're mutants, Kitty, and there is so much more that I and Moira can show you, if you let us._

At that, Kitty's eyes went wide as teacups . . . but she didn't show one ounce of fear, even as she pursed her lips in thought. "Will . . . will I be able to . . . well, come back home?"

"At any time you'd like to," Moira offered. "Provided there are no classes tae finish at th' time. After all, ye won't just be comin' tae explore yuir ability alone." She nodded to Carmen, who had a relieved look on his face. "Aside from everythin' else, Charles' school will provide ye with a top-notch education, cheild."

Kitty took a moment to absorb this. "But . . . won't Mom be, well . . . she won't like it, if I go away."

Carmen came closer and put a comforting hand on Kitty's shoulder. "We'll deal with that together, Kitty . . . besides, I don't think your mother will be too upset, if you prove to her that your education isn't being neglected."

Kitty blinked, before a hopeful look crossed her face. "Does . . . that mean-?" She shook herself. "You're gonna let me go, to his school?"

"Kitten . . . what do you want to do?" Carmen asked, though it was clear, from what he'd witnessed, he was already approving of what Xavier had proposed.

For a moment, the young girl was silent . . . then, she looked at the bald-headed telepath and asked, "If it's what I want to do . . . then can I leave, sir?"

To Be Continued...


	5. Chapter 5

X-MEN : 103

"Recruitment, Part II"

by Stephen R. Sobotka Jr. (SSobotkaJr) 2006 ©

DISCLAIMER : This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "X-MEN". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is my take on the X-Men Universe . . . be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead.

Enjoy! - SRS

oooOOOooo

RECRUITMENT, PART II

_The Village of the Goddess,  
The Serengheti, Africa . . . ._

"A mutant, you say?"

Tessa could see the cool set to Ororo's features showed the tall, African woman was none too pleased with that nomen. "Ororo, we aren't here to insult you, but it is the truth. Your abilities -- what we've seen of them -- could only come from what science has described as a manifestation of a mutancy."

Ororo's stance didn't shift, as she crossed her arms over her bosom. "I have always believed my power to come from the Earth . . . from nature herself." She gestured towards the skies above, and before long a cluster of clouds swirled into existence. With another motion of her hand, the cloud gusted sideways, before it came to shade a small cluster of villagers nearby.

"Impressive, to be certain," Hank said. "A form of what the Professor would call atmokenesis."

Ororo looked at the blue-furred man with a curious expression. "Professor?"

"Professor Charles Xavier," Tessa said. "He is the man who sent us here, to find you."

"He runs a school and an institute, back in America," Hank added. "It is where we both learned to explore and better control our own mutant abilities."

Ororo nodded absently. "Xavier . . . the name seems, somewhat familiar, to me." She looked off, as if trying to see into a long, forgotten memory. Shaking her head, she sighed and looked to Tessa. "Why does this Professor Xavier wish to have me join him and his . . . school?"

"The Professor has deemed the need for others with unique talents and abilities, to be given the chance to become part of his dream... a world where people of all countries and races can live in peace with those of us that have these abilities," Tessa said. "To this end, he wishes to recruit a team of such people, to act not only as an example but to also serve a more pro active role in promoting this ideal."

Henry nodded. "I myself was part of his original team, and . . . it is hoped that you will come to join the new team we are forming."

Ororo looked away from Tessa and Henry. "Your . . . Xavier sounds, like a man who would want for only the best intentions to come from his team . . . his institute." She turned and fixed Tessa with a piercing glare. "Yet, how can I become part of such a thing, when my people need my powers here?" She motioned with one hand, and a small cluster of dark mist swirled into existence before her; forming a micro-sized storm cloud over a small plant, which let go with a small burst of rain over the green leaves and long stems.

"It is by my hand that this village can sustain itself . . . water, for crops, its animals and people. Wind, to hold back the sandstorms from the desert beyond . . . even a cooling breeze, to combat the harshest summer seasons." She flicked her fingers, and the tiny cloud vanished into nothing. "How can I be asked to leave my people, when all depend much on my being here?"

Tessa was at a loss to counter such words.

Henry, however, stepped closer to the tall woman and nodded towards the village center. "You make an impressive argument, Ororo . . . and, I would be the last to find fault, if you remained. However, look at your village from another view, if you would?"

"Another . . . view?" Ororo's brow crinkled. "What do you-?"

"You have created a practical paradise for these people," Henry said, pushing on gently as he motioned to the surrounding area. "They lack for nothing; water, food, shelter . . . all that humanity requires to survive, they have, thanks to the abilities that you alone possess."

"True . . . but, why do you say such things, when you and your friend wish me to leave here?"

Henry looked at her with a frank, unapologetic expression. "Because leaving here -- while it may go against any and all that you hold dear -- might just be the thing that may save these people in the long run."

Ororo blinked. "But, without me-."

"With you here, your powers prevent this village from falling back on survival skills that kept their people alive far long before you arrived here," Henry said. His face softened a bit when he saw the distress touching Ororo's eyes. "It may well be for the best, for them and yourself, if you were to come with us."

Tessa felt herself go still inside. What her companion was saying would either tip Ororo towards deciding to go, or not . . . .

For the longest span of a heartbeat, Ororo locked eyes with Henry. "What you say . . . I can concede that it has some merit." She looked towards the rest of the village again. "Since coming here, I only wished to help these people, after what they were able to do for me." She looked at the other two and sighed. "I was a wanderer, once. For years, I traveled far across this land, after leaving Cairo for a better life . . . I came to this village, and had seen how these people were barely existing; poor crops, scarce water and little hope. I used my abilities to bring them the first large rainfall that any of them had seen in years, and for that, they called me a goddess.

"They offered me a home, and a place where I would never have to use . . . less-favorable skills to exist," Ororo said, raising one hand to look at it. "I only wished to do what was right."

"You did, and you should be commended for that, Miss Munroe," Henry said. "But, think . . . even if you left for a year, do you think these people would vanish, without your abilities to bring more rain and comfort?" He nodded when she shook her head in reply. "If anything, the peoples of Africa are survivors. You yourself are living proof of that."

Tessa nodded in agreement. "Please, Ororo, we would not ask if we felt the need was not as great as keeping this village alive. In fact, with your help, we may one day keep this entire world from suffering."

Ororo frowned. Then, turning back to face the village again, she said softly, "I cannot just leave, without first consulting the elders and their chief." Glancing over her shoulder, she nodded towards one of the smaller buildings. "Wait there. I have already sent word for the chieftain to return as quickly as he can. Once I have spoken with him and the other elders, I will give you my answer."  
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oooOOOooo  
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It was much later in the day -- well past dusk -- when the village chief and his elders gathered together to hear Ororo speak. As the cooling air of the night began to take over from the late-evening heat, torches were lit and a lone fire in the center of the village offered the only source of light; casting dancing shadows over the huts and walls of the barricade.

Waiting in the small hut where they were told to be, Henry and Tessa did their best to be patient. Tessa herself managed to turn her focus inwards from time to time, going over data for their future mission 'legs', while Henry maintained watch over the activity outside.

"They are taking, well, quite a spell to talk this over," he said at length, sinking down to crouch next to the doorway of the hut.

Tessa nodded. "I hope it will not be much longer. We've spent far too much time as it stands, waiting for her answer."

"I wasn't aware we were on a timetable, Tessa," Henry said, looking at the young Afghani woman.

"We need to move as quickly as we can," she replied. "If we are to prepare a new team, we'll need to use every moment and opportunity we can take for ourselves." Blinking, she turned and looked at her furry companion and added, "If the Professor has managed to secure his first contact, we should be well on our way to forming a good core element for this new 'class' of X-Men."

Henry nodded. "That would be wonderful . . . if we do acquire our African goddess, as well." There was a rise in the sounds of activity outside, making both Tessa and Henry turn to look through the doorway. "It may be," he said, seeing the emerging cluster of villagers from the central hut, "that we may have our answer momentarily."

"Let us go see," Tessa said.

As Henry rose to join her, walking outside into the night air, the gaggle of villagers parted -- showing a brief glimpse of a smaller cluster of grey and dark haired men in colored robes -- to allow the tall form of Ororo to step through and make her way towards the two mutants. There was a determined sense of purpose in her step, a confirmed set to her body that could've said much about what was on her mind . . . but, her face was an unreadable mask.

"This may not, bode well, I fear." Henry looked briefly at Tessa.

"Wait and see," she said, lifting her chin briefly as Ororo came up to the last few feet in front of the hut. "Ororo," she said in greeting.

"Tessa, Henry . . . I do apologize for making you wait this long," Ororo said, offering a small shrug. "The elders felt it was best for all concerned to have a voice in this matter."

"Understood," the dark-haired woman said. "But, we must ask-."

"You will not need to ask." Ororo said firmly. "I understand what it is you wish me to do, but you must know that it is not something that the villagers are particularly liking. To lose their guardian . . . it is not the most desired thing, that anyone must be forced to endure."

Both Henry and Tessa looked at each other; their expressions mirroring their thoughts of failure.

"However . . . even though a bird is safest in their nest, there comes a time when she must be allowed to spread her wings," Ororo said, a small smile filling her face. Nodding, she took in the surprise and relief in their faces, she added, "I will be leaving with you, to join your Xavier's Institute."  
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oooOOOooo  
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_A Remote Location,  
Somewhere in Scrub Country, Canada . . . ._

The scent of wood smoke, and the aroma of campfire coffee and a simple meal sizzling in a cast-iron pan permeated the late evening air.

Crouched on a low stone next to his fire, the rugged-looking individual in red-checked flannel and denim stirred the contents of cook pan with one hand, while the other reached out to move an iron coffee pot off to a flat stone at one side. Taking a moment to observe his nightly meal, he then reached for one pocket of his shirt and removed a long cigar. Briefly, he glanced at it before raising it to his lips to bite off one end. Spitting the piece out of his mouth, he stuck the rest of the cigar between his teeth and reached for the end of one branch sticking out of the fire.

As he raised the lit branch to the end of the cigar, he paused between one breath and the next one . . . his nose filled with the scents of the woods and scrub around him. At once, his entire being went tense as an iron cable, but his movements didn't betray his sudden shift of awareness.

Dropping the branch back into the fire, he stooped towards a bedroll and backpack -- as if to retrieve something -- before he suddenly lurched to the side and barreled into the shadows between the trees. One hand snagged the front of a jacket, jerking upwards to lift the wearer off their feet as he drew back one fist to punch-!

"Logan! STOP!"

Drawn up short, Logan pulled his fist back with a snarl, before moving back to put both himself and this unknown person into the moonlight . . . where he blinked in surprise at just whom he had dangling from his grip. "Moira?"

"Saints, mon, is this how ye treat a'ne of yuir visitors!?" Moira MacTaggart breathed sharply, before she said, "Put me down, please! I dinnae come t'fight ye."

Lowering the Scottish woman to the ground, Logan relaxed a bit, but not completely. "Been ages, Moira." He eyed her up and down briefly. "Can see life's . . . been good to ya."

Moira nodded. "Not wi'out a few, well, mishaps."

Logan nodded, before moving back towards his campfire. "Come in outta th' cold, darlin'. I was just makin' dinner." He turned to check his food, before asking, "What brings ya out inta this neck of th' woods?"

"A need, stemmin' from a tragic loss . . . namely Charles' first class."

That got the Canadian's attention. "Jean an' th' rest? What-?"

"They're dead, Logan." Moira said simply. "T'was a mission t'find what they thought was a new mutant contact..." She briefly filled him in on the particulars, waiting after she was done for his reaction.

Logan slowly crouched down next to his fire and pulled his coffee cup off of the cook-grill and briefly stared down into the hot, dark liquid. "Damn . . . m'sorry, Moira."

"Why, mon? F'r not bein' there wi' them?" she asked. "Would ye have made a'ne difference in th' whole outcome?"

Taking a sip of his drink, Logan shrugged. "Maybe . . . Maybe not. Still, it's a shame t'know Jean an' the others are gone." He grimaced and stared up at the Scottish doctor. "So . . . the 'class' is gone, an' Xavier sends you out, lookin' fer me. Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? We're assemblin' a new mutant team . . . t'carry on where Scott, Jean and th' others left us with," Moira said.

"An' Xavier wants me t'join up, eh?"

"Ye're not th' first we've sought out, but yes." She paused. "Will ye, Logan?"

Logan stared down into the fire again. "Dunno, darlin' . . . last time I hooked up with Chuck's lil' school, he promised t'help me fill in the gaps in my lost mem'ries and past." He frowned and flicked his hand to the side, sending the remainder of his coffee splashing onto the ground. "I got some answers, but a whole lotta questions were still left lyin' around."

"Tis' not fer yourself that I'm-. . . that Charles is askin' for yet t'join, Logan. We're takin' on some new people this time; a'nes wi'out a lot o' experience in dealin' wi' their mutancy." She moved in closer to the fire, crouching down to bring her eye-to-eye with Logan. "Charles is needin' a few people that have experience in dealin' wi' such matters, an' comin' t'be more or less leaders f'r this new 'class', as it is.

"We both hope that ye can be one o' them."

Logan frowned. "I ain't much fer runnin' with a team, Moira." He stirred the contents of his cook pot. "Last time we all were together . . . well, that lil' fracas shoulda told ya that much. Besides, I like bein' on my own, without anythin' tyin' me down."

"'Praps so . . . but, you would'nae be under any obligation t'stay on f'rever, mon." Moria held up her hands in a placating gesture. "We would simply need ye to help us get things established wi' th' new team. If that works out, the soonest ye could leave -- if ye still wished tae do so -- would be within a year, at th' least."

That got Logan's attention. "That a fact?"

"Aye, tis no lie."

Logan worked his jaw from side to side. "No strings, darlin'?"

"No one is under a'ne pressure t'stay on, if they dinnae wish tae."

"Ah-huh," Logan said, looking back into the fire, before reaching to stir the contents of his cook pot again.

"Well, mon?"

"Gotta think about it, Moira . . . gotta consider what it's all worth t'me, after what I've been through already." With that, he focused on his cook fire and said nothing more.

Sighing, Moira rose and gave Logan one last look. "Well . . . should ye decide t'join us, ye only have'ta come tae th' Institute." She turned and started to walk away from the campsite, reaching into her coat to remove a hand-sized transceiver, which she keyed on and started speaking into as she vanished into the darkness beyond the firelight. "Charles, Ay'm on m'way back . . . ."  
.

oooOOOooo  
.

Sitting idle on a flat expanse of rock near a high ridge, some five miles from the place where Logan had his campsite, the 'Blackbird' jet had its main hatchway open to the ground.

Standing at the foot of it -- or sitting in his wheelchair, to be truthful -- Charles Xavier had his hands folded across his lap, his attention fixed squarely towards the shadowy trees looming some fifty-feet beyond the lit exterior lights of the supersonic aircraft.

Just then, the sound of footsteps coming down the access steps build into the lower part of the hatchway got his attention; making him turn to face Kitty Pryde, who was emerging from inside the jet. "Kitty?"

"Sorry, Professor," she said, coming to a stop at the bottom of the ramp. "I . . . I was bored waiting inside, so-."

"You came to see if Dr. MacTaggart has returned?" Charles nodded briefly, before he added, "No, but she is on her way . . . and, I'm afraid without the mutant we came to recruit, it seems."

Nodding, the young teenager peered out into the woods and shivered. "Ooo, why would we need to find someone that lives out in a place like this?"

"Because, child, Logan possesses some rather . . . unique abilities, on top of his considerable skills as a survivalist and a fighter," Charles said. "He also brings years of experience, which I feel many of the younger people -- yourself included. -- could benefit from."

Kitty felt her lips twist in a small, wry grin, before she frowned. "But, he's not coming . . . why wouldn't he want to help you?"

Sighing, Charles turned to look out into the woods again. "Logan has . . . something dark in his past, Kitty. Something he either has forgotten, or has lost. I offered to help him find what was missing once . . . but, it ended without a positive resolution." He looked back at Kitty and said, "That may have been a factor in his deciding not to join us now. I cannot say for certain."

Nodding, Kitty said, "Bummer. So, if he's not joining us . . . what do we do now?"

"For the moment, we'll get in touch with the others who are seeking out other mutants, like you, who we wish to join us." Charles paused, looking out into the woods as he added, "When I know how their progress is, we can begin to plan for our next move." His expression then brightened, as he turned to face the woods, just as the sounds of someone making their way towards the jet could be heard. "Ah . . . Moira has returned."

True to his words, the slim form of Dr. MacTaggart emerged from the tree line -- looking slightly put off as she slipped into view. Both Kitty and Charles moved forwards to join her, the later looking worried as she took in the haggard expression on the older woman's face.

"Doctor MacTaggart . . . are you-?"

"Nae, chield, there's nae need t'fret," Moira said with a sigh. "Ay'm all right . . . 'twas a lang walk, an' all f'r nothin' it seems." She looked at Charles and shook her head. "Logan's nae changed much. An' th' mon seems set tae remain alone, for th' nonce."

"You did explain to Logan-?" Charles cut himself off, nodding gravely. "Yes, yes you did . . . well, we did try. There's much to be said for that."

"Aye, but Logan would'a been a guid addition tae th' team," Moira said, before she shook her head. "Ach, this lil' 'venture has me fair tired, Charles."

"Well, you'll be able to get enough rest on our flight back to America, Moira." Reaching out to take her hand, Charles gave it a reassuring squeeze. "After which, perhaps we shall have better luck with our next candidate."

"'Praps so, Charles." Stifiling a yawn, Moira nodded towards Kitty. "Chield, ye best get back aboard th' jet. We'll be leavin' promptly."

"Right, Doctor MacTaggart." Kitty turned to head back to the jet, only to come up short with a squeak of fear as she stumbled back against Charles' wheelchair. The adults turned, both staring with wide eyes at the sight of Logan; who was leaning against one of the support struts of the open hatchway, his bedroll and pack resting at his feet and an amused expression on his face.

Moira asked, "Logan!? What th' devil-?"

"Told ya I needed time t'think about it, Moira," Logan said, pausing to take a draw on his lit cigar. Letting his breath out with a cloud of smoke, he shook his head as he added, "Turns out I didn't need that much time, I guess."

Charles turned his chair around to face the rugged Canadian fully, before gently waving Kitty to stand with Moira. "I see . . . so, are we to presume you are willingly joining with our new team, Logan?"

Logan shrugged. "Could be . . . then again, I might decide t'just up an' go after we get back t'yer lil' school, Chuck." Stepping away from the jet, Logan moved closer to the trio, pulling the cigar from his mouth as he said simply, "Still . . . I remember how much Jean, Scott an' th' others were workin' t'make a go of yer lil' experiment. Be a shame, if all that effort went t'waste without someone tryin' again, hm?"

Charles nodded. "True."

Sighing, Logan looked from Charles to Moira once more, before giving Kitty a brief glance as he said, "So . . . looks like I'm in. Providin' what Moira said goes-?"

"It does," Charles said, nodding.

"Well then," Logan stepped closer and offered Charles his hand. "Looks like ya got yer man, Chuck."

Charles grimaced, but gladly accepted Logan's handshake. "Well, if you are ready then . . . we should be on our way then."

"Sounds guid tae me," Moira said, trying to hold back another yawn. "'Tis beyond my time f'r sleep . . . an' Ay'm certain ye need yuir rest as well, chield," she added, nudging Kitty.

Logan gave Kitty a short look. "Who's th' kid, Moira? Yours?"

Kitty scowled at him. "Hey!"

"Kitty is a'ne of th' first of our new students, Logan," Moira explained. "We picked her up in Chicago, before we came lookin' for ye."

Arching one eyebrow, Logan muttered, "That so?" He glanced at Charles. "Robbin' th' cradle for this new team, ain'tcha?" With that, he turned around and started back towards the jet. "Just don't expect me t'babysit fer ya, Chuck."

Kitty glared at his back. "Geez, grumpy much?"

Patting Kitty's shoulder, Moira said, "Nae mind his . . . well, abrasive manner, Kitty. F'r Logan, 'tis a part of his nature."

Charles nodded. "Still, he is the best at what he does, Kitty . . . do remember that, as he will be one of your instructors at the Institute." Nudging the controls on his chair, he motioned for the two women to follow him. "Come along then, we need to be away and get in touch with Tessa and Henry."  
.

To Be Continued...


	6. Chapter 6

X-MEN : 103

"Recruitment, Part III"

by Stephen R. Sobotka Jr. (SSobotkaJr) 2006/2008 ©

DISCLAIMER : This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "X-MEN". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is my take on the X-Men Universe . . . be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead, and this one gets a little violent. You've been warned!

Enjoy! - SRS

oooOOOooo

RECRUITMENT, PART III

oooOOOooo

_Aboard Blackbird-One,  
En route to Louisiana, Southeast USA . . . ._

" _. . . and we are currently an hour from Munich, to find the next contact on the list, Professor. With luck, we should be onward to Lake Baikal in Siberia within the next few days._"

Seated at the co-pilot's console, Charles Xavier nodded as he listened to the transmission being send by Henry McCoy. "Good work, Henry, but continue to go cautiously. The data Tessa gathered on your next contact demands the utmost tact and discretion."

At the controls of the powerful jet-craft, Moira took a brief moment to glance over her shoulder at the two jump-seats behind them. In the one, Kitty Pryde was doing her level best not to stare at the occupant in the other seat, but she was doing a terrible job of it . . . especially when Logan extended one of his claws to cut the end off of a new cigar he'd removed from his jacket. "Logan, ye know full an' well that ye cannae smoke in here," she said at length.

Giving her a frank look, the roughshod Canadian man just grunted and popped the end of the cigar into his mouth. "Flamin' rules." With a hiss of metal against flesh, he retracted the long adamantium 'claw and folded his arms over his chest.

"Just be patient," Moria said. "We'll be at our destination in no time, an' then ye can light up after we've landed."

By then, Xavier had finished his communication with Henry and had closed down the transceiver. "Well, it seems there is more good news," he said to Moira and the others. "Henry and Tessa have acquired their first contact. From what he reports, this young lady has an impressive ability."

"That's great, Charles," Moira said.

"Still, we cannot sit idle ourselves." He turned his seat around, facing Logan and Kitty. "Logan, I am afraid you will have to begin working sooner that expected, since our next destination . . . well, it would require someone that can, well, blend in better than either Moira or I can." He reached for a folder that was seated inside a deep pocket on the side of his seat and handed it over to Logan.

"Figurin' you'd stick out like a sore thumb, Chuck?" Logan took the folder and flipped it open.

"Considering the locale this new contact is at . . . yes."

"Couldn't I help out, Professor?" Kitty asked.

Logan had been skimming the papers inside the folder, only to jerk his head back with a soft grunt of surprise. He glanced at Kitty, before he returned to reading the papers. "No, kid."

Kitty shot him a look. "Hey, I have a name, you know . . . and why can't I-?"

"Two reasons; too young and I know Chuck ain't gonna want your lil' backside just waltzin' inta a place like where we're goin'."

"But, I-!"

"No . . . Kitty," Logan said forcefully.

"Best to listen to th' mon, Kitty," Moira said soothingly, realizing the girl genuinely wanted to help them out. "Besides, this is nae th' time fer you t'help us. There will be others, t'be certain."

Logan snapped the folder closed, looking up at both Charles and Moira. "How's this supposed to play out?"

"Simply bring the contact out, to a more neutral meeting place where I will be waiting." Charles nodded to the others. "Kitty and Moira will wait with the Black Bird, until we return."

"With or without th' contact?" Logan snorted.

"I would prefer 'with' . . . still, I will not force anyone to join if they so wish not to," Charles said, a frown crossing his features. "After what's happened . . . ."

Logan saw the look of worry on Moira's face -- and the puzzled one on Kitty's -- and nodded. "Fair 'nough, Chuck. I'll do m'best."

At that point, the center panel emitted a loud ping-noise, alerting both Charles and Moira. "We're comin' up on our destination," the Scottish woman reported, turning around to focus on the controls fully. "I'll find us a quiet spot near where ye should be going tae, Logan."

Charles turned and snapped over a series of switches. "Engaging stealth systems."

"Why should we be doing that, Professor?"

Charles looked back to Kitty. "Most towns would not like the presence of a hypersonic jet flying so low overhead. Which is why this plane is equipped with all the means necessary to mask itself, and prevent any sort of damage to buildings or structures as we fly over any populated areas."

"Oh, I see," Kitty replied.

Logan chuckled softly, "Makes fer us bein' able to slip past local enforcement a whole lot easier, kid. We're not doin' anythin' illegal . . . but, it's better fer all that we don't go announcin' our presence to th' whole flamin' world."

oooOOOooo

_The __**Swamp Men's Club**__ in Natchez,_

_Natchitoches Parrish, Louisiana, Later . . . ._

The club was a dump.

Seedy-looking characters in faded denim and worn leather, rusty trucks sat among a row of chrome-accented 'bikes, facing a two-storey building that looked like someone made a poor attempt to replicate the old antebellum style of the Deep South. Blinking neon lights filtered out through the cheap curtains covering the lower level windows; casting a shifting, kaleidoscope glow out into the gloom of the evening air and over the antique rockers that littered the low porch out front.

Logan, standing next to the modified motorcycle he'd borrowed from the Blackbird's storage unit, eyed it all without any particular worry on his part.

_Hell . . . I've seen worse dives in Madripoor!_ he thought. Puffing a bit on his lit cigar, he shoved one hand into the pocket of his leather jacket and started walking towards the front of the club._Chuck?_

_I am with you, Logan._

_Just checkin'._ Logan thought back.

Mounting the wooden steps, he left a trail of smoke in his wake as he approached the wide, double doors sitting just beyond a pair of burly-looking toughs that were stationed on battered beer kegs on either side of the entrance. As he got near, one tipped his head towards the stocky Canadian -- making the fat jowls on his face puff out -- as he muttered, "Ten dollah covah, boy . . . no money, no gettin' in, y'heah?"

Logan stopped, blew more smoke through his nostrils as he dug into one hip pocket to remove a short bundle of cash. Flipping off two bills, he tossed them at the big brute. "Keep th' change, bub."

Catching the money, the big guy swept his arm back and shoved the right-hand door open, allowing the sound of a whiskey-laden saxophone and six-string guitar to flow out into the night. "No smokin' inside. Ya'll have a good time, y'heah?"

Logan just grunted, tossing his cigar towards a sand-filled coffee can nearby, before stepping inside.

Beyond the doorway, the interior of the club looked like someone's bad idea of good decorating; off-color paint clashed with the mix matted carpeting and hard-wood flooring, which was spotted with several wooden tables and mismatched chairs. An area near the back -- dominated by a stripper's long stage, flanked by two smaller stages -- was ringed by a low dividing wall and several chairs, most of them filled with more seedy-types, who were watching a blond-headed woman in short-shorts and a skimpy top strutting her 'stuff'.

Shaking his head, Logan looked the place over, and slipping around a cage-wrapped DJ-booth, he started to make his way to the long bar that stretched a good half of the left-hand wall. A big black fellow, dressed in a sleeveless red shirt, with a bald head and a silver ring in his ear, nodded as he placed two full pitchers of beer on a tray in front of him; letting a short, compact brunette whisk it away.

Logan reached the bar, and the big bartender stalked along with him as he made his way to a seat at the far end. "Wa'cha havin' theah, mah frien'?"

"Beer, cold." Logan peeled off another bill from his roll of cash, tossing it onto the bar top.

The bartender scooped it up in one big paw, making it vanish before he reached down into a cooler for a long-necked bottle. "No fancy stuff, this'n . . . but, 'tis a-cold'n," he said, popping the cap off with a mounted church-key on the side of the cooler.

"S'okay," Logan said, taking the bottle when it was offered.

"So . . . ya'll heah fo' a little som'ting sweet, or p'raps som'ting sassy, my frien'?"

"Lookin' fer a girl . . . was told she's workin' here," Logan said, pausing to take a swig of his beer. "Her name's Marie."

The bartender grinned, his white teeth stark against the dusky complexion of his face as he smiled. "Who, Lil' Marie? Shoo, she's he'ah." The speakers on either end of the bar started to throb with the sound of a high-hat rhythm and steel-string accompaniment, just as he added, "She's startin' her set, raight now."

At that point, the DJ's voice cut in over the musical build up. "Now, gents . . . get ready to feast yo eyes on a lovely lil' slice! As we here at th' Swamp give a hearty welcome to . . . MARIEEE!"

Turning around, Logan cast his eyes towards the main stage of the club; where twin spotlights bracketed the tacky beaded curtain on the back wall. _Damn, Chuck didn't assume this gal was a stripper!_ he thought. Just as the music hit its intro-vamp, the colorful strands of beads were flung aside . . . .

Amid the hoots and cheers from the men seated around it, a girl looking no older than eighteen hit the stage, with all the vigor and sultry perpetual motion that hit Logan like an out-of-control diesel train!

"_Tattoo... crawlin' down her leg, so sex-ee!_

_So YOUNG! Evah get caught, they'd a-rest meee!"_

True to the song, the girl was vamping it up full-tilt. Clad in calf-length, black stiletto boots with sheer stockings that did little to hide the image of a slithering serpent on her right leg, she swung her hips to the raunchy beat; her green 'cheerleader' style skirt swished, making the pleats flirt about to reveal the creamy, pale skin beneath. A mid-drift top of close-knit mesh, underneath a brief vest of dark leather barely covered her torso, and fingerless gloves ran up to her elbows, leaving her fingers bare -- save for the dark nails and random silver rings. Dark eye-makeup and purple-tinted lipstick rounded out the whole ensemble, accentuating the short-length, dark-auburn hair on her head, which had a contrasting pair of white streaks up front that framed her face.

_Holy-!_ Logan tried to gather his wits, but the gob smacked expression on his face was easily spied by the bartender.

"She lookin' purty good raight now, he'ar?" the black man said with a grin. "She don' peel off down to de skin, like a lot o' our gals . . . but she sho' pack a powerful punch, now!"

Swallowing, Logan got himself -- and his sudden rise in hormones -- under control. "Ah, yeah . . . she, sure does, friend."

On the stage, Marie was working one of the long poles now; twirling and kicking her legs out as her appreciative admirers whistled and cat-called from their seats. Writhing in time with the music, she smiled, flirted and blew kisses as she made her circuit around the stage. A couple of men tried to stretch across the five-foot divide between them and the edge of the stage, only to fall short as she spun out of their grasp; the young girl chuckling as one of the club bouncers enforced the "no-touching zone" rule to them.

_Don't blame 'em_, Logan thought to himself. _Kid's pushin' that powerful amount o' sugar . . . well, it'd make any red-blooded male wanna howl!_ Easing back onto his stool, Logan decided to get his mind back onto business. _Yo, Chuck! You readin' me?_

The mental reply came back at once: _Yes, Logan. Have you found the contact?_

_Oh . . . yeah, you might say that!_ Logan chuckled, smiling as he watched Marie do an inverted-splits hang off the pole. _She's here . . . but, it's too busy in here. She's, um . . . too involved fer me t'make a move just yet._

_Keep watching her, Logan. As soon as she can be approached, you must do so._

_Believe me, Chuck, I ain't takin' my eyes off o' her!_ Logan replied. To himself he said, _All I gotta do is wait for her t'finish her sets, an' then I'll figure out how t'approach her._ With that, he sipped his beer and leaned back to enjoy the show with all the other men.

She was nearly into her next song, and Logan actually was relaxed enough to almost forget about his mission . . . when he saw a guy moving with slow, measured purpose from the front of the seating area towards the main stage. Something about this fellow -- plain-clothed, black hair all clean-cut -- with the way he just stared at the girl dancing on stage set off a major warning alarm in Logan's mind.

_Somethin's not right with this yokel!_ Logan eased his arm back, putting the beer on the bar top as he turned to more or less face the stage fully without standing up.

The bartender noticed his abandoning of his drink. "He'ah . . . ya'll wanna 'nother round, friend?"

Not turning around, Logan muttered, "Set 'em up." _Okay . . . just what is this bozos' game?_ Logan thought.

By then, the clean-cut fellow had reached the edge of the stage's seating ring; standing near one of the few unoccupied chairs. His face was pale, and impassive; unreadable, even to Logan's experienced mind. None of the other patrons were paying any attention to him, while Marie was twirling around on the pole like a Playboy version of a merry-go-round mount.

At the apex of her spinning, Marie let go and slithered to the stage, ending up on her knees in an improvised slide that brought her to the edge amid a new wave of cheers and whistles.

At that point, Mr. Clean-Cut seemed to come alive; his face lighting up with an unholy-looking glee, as he vaulted up onto the empty chair and sprang towards the stage. Even as the other patrons were calling for Marie to dance, Mr. Clean-Cut landed squarely next to the now-shocked girl, and he reached out to take hold of her arm with a gloved hand.

"Time to come with me, girl!"

With a look of fright, the girl cried out, "Hey! No touching!" She started to pull back, but her assailant quickly twisted her arm back, pulling her to his body as he wrenched her limb into an incapacitating position. "OW!"

"No escaping this, girl . . . you belong to me!"

By then, the cat-calls had turn to jeers, and one of the bouncers was zeroing in on the interloper. "Hey! Let the girl go, Jack!" the husky brute said sternly.

Logan was thinking to intervene himself, only to stare in shock as Mr. Clean-Cut pulled out a wide-mouthed weapon of some type he'd never seen before and -- before anyone could act -- he fired three times into the torso of the bouncer. With an anguished cry, the tough man who would've been Marie's savoir toppled back over the dividing wall . . . his upper body landing on the patron's side, while his legs flopped into a boneless puddle right in front of the stage.

"HELL!" "LOOK OUT!" "HE KILLED FRANKIE!"

_Ah, Spit!_ Logan acted; bolting from his seat, piling head-long against the sudden back surge of bodies that were scrabbling to get away from the gun-toting man; now holding a crying, hysterical Marie against his side as he fired more crimson rounds over the heads of the fleeing mob. Shoving several patrons aside, Logan snarled as he reached the dividing wall, unnoticed by Mr. Clean-Cut for the moment as the gunman was firing more rounds at the DJ's booth, shattering the glass and causing an explosion in the equipment inside.

_Chuck! We gotta problem here!_ he called out through his mind. _Looks like someone else wants our girl too!_

Charles' mental voice came through, heard even over the commotion around him: _Logan, be careful! The contact-!_

"I know!" Logan snapped, leaping over the wall and landing on the stage behind the assailant and the girl. "Hey, Bub! Let the girl go!" he warned.

Mr. Clean-Cut turned and stared hard at Logan. "Go back to your beer, you sorry hick, before I make you sorry you decided to play 'hero'," he said.

With a smirk, Logan said, "I ain't no hero, but I ain't gonna let you take th' girl outta hear."

Facing Logan fully, while still holding onto the girl with an iron grip, Mr. Clean-Cut leveled his weapon at Logan. "I'd like to see you try to stop me."

With a flex of both hands, Logan popped his 'claws' into view. "Your funeral, chum." Before the shocked expression on the attacker's face had fully formed, Logan swept in underneath his guard, slashing upwards and cutting the barrel of the blaster into three, slanted-edged pieces. Planting one foot, he then lashed out with a kick that lifted the man off his feet, making him let go of Marie and sent him crashing down onto the floor below the stage.

Retracting one set of his adamantium blades, he reached out and gripped Marie by her shirt-covered shoulder. "Hey, girl, you all right?"

Looking up at Logan, the girl had a look of utter horror on her face as she jerked herself out of his grasp. "No! Don't-!"

"Hey, hey, take it easy! I'm not gonna hurt'cha," Logan said, trying to sound soothing, even as more shouts from the few remaining patrons filled the air. "I'm a friend. I just-!" Logan's body jerked as several heavy-metal slugs slammed into his side and arm, the total force of the sudden burst of gunfire sent him flying backwards along the stage. Sliding to a stop, his body lay in a half-limp heap amid a scattering of crumpled dollar bills and a slow oozing pool of shattered beer bottles.

Standing at the end of the stage, Mr. Clean-Cut glared over the barrel of a heavy automatic pistol. "I don't know who you are . . . but I came for the girl, and I will take her no matter what the cost is." He cocked the action back, grinning wickedly. "Even if that cost is your life, mutant scum!"

To Be Continued...


	7. Chapter 7

X-MEN : 103

"Recruitment, Part IV"

by Stephen R. Sobotka Jr. (SSobotkaJr) 2006/2008 ©

DISCLAIMER : This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "X-MEN". All Characters within -- with exception to the ones created by the author -- are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : This is my take on the X-Men Universe . . . be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead.

Enjoy! - SRS

oooOOOooo

RECRUITMENT, PART IV

oooOOOooo

_The __**Swamp Men's Club**__ in Natchez,  
Natchitoches Parrish, Louisiana. . . ._

_Standing at the end of the stage, Mr. Clean-Cut glared over the barrel of a heavy automatic pistol. "I don't know who you are . . . but I came for the girl, and I will take her no matter what the cost is." He cocked the action back, grinning wickedly. "Even if that cost is your life, mutant scum!"_

Frozen in fear, the girl -- Marie -- stared at the crumpled body of Logan. "Oh no . . . no, no!" Galvanizing herself, she started to scramble backwards towards the edge of the stage, only to shriek when her attacker whipped his hand around and snagged her by her long auburn hair.

"I've come too far to lose you now, girl!" Mr. Clean-Cut snarled, turning Marie to face him as she squirmed against his grip. "Now, either come willingly . . . or I'll make you come with me!"

"No! Please!" Marie begged. "Just, j-just . . . let, me go!"

Before her attacker could reply, he was shocked to feel a set of heavy fingertips tapping him on the shoulder. Turning his face around, he only got a brief look at the hairy knuckles of the fist thrown at his face, before the sheer force of it pitched him over the side of the stage. Landing heavily, Mr. Clean-Cut lost his hold on the heavy pistol and slid down onto the beer-stained floor with a groan.

Wincing in pain, Marie tried to back away from the stage's edge, only to come against a pair of slightly-unsteady legs. Looking up, she gasped at the sight before her. "What!?"

Groaning, Logan twisted his head briefly, hissing when he felt the embedded slugs in his arm and ribs pop out of the rapidly-closing holes in his flesh. "Damn, that smarts!" He looked down at Marie with concern. "You hurt?"

She numbly shook her head. "B-but . . . you were dead?!"

"I got better." Logan grunted, extending his arm towards Marie as he looked around briefly. "This ain't safe fer th' both o' us, girl . . . c'mon!" When she hesitated, he said more forcefully, "Come on! Do ya wanna wait fer him t'get back up again?"

Marie shot a glance at Mr. Clean-Cut -- who was slowly getting his wits and his sense of balance back -- before she told Logan, "Ah, don' wanna stick around with him, but . . . how can Ah trust ya, mister?"

"Your call, kid, but you need to chose, an' fast!" Taking her by the front of her vest, he jerked her to the side, lunging forwards to meet Mr. Clean-Cut, just as the goon was rising to climb back onto the stage again. With a savage motion, Logan kicked the man in his face; snapping his head around with the full force of the blow. A second before Mr. Clean-Cut toppled backwards, Logan got a brief look at his face . . . and was surprised when the pale flesh ripple over with a deep, cerulean-shaded patch before it returned to its former state.

"What the hell-?"

_Logan! Can you hear me?_

"Yeah . . . yeah! I hear ya, Chuck!" Logan gasped, trying to focus on Charles's mental communication, even as he wondered about what he'd seen.

_The situation is bad for you in there! A fire has started near the entrance . . . spreading too fast for you to leave that way! You must get the girl out, and quickly!_

_Gotcha!_ Staring around, Logan saw there were no practical exits through windows or any doors that he could and couldn't see. Looking at Marie, he asked, "We got trouble, kid . . . fire's blockin' the front. Any other exits here?"

Marie quickly pointed towards the beaded curtain at the back of the stage. "Back there. Stairs, to the upper floor!"

_Chuck, might have a way out on th' roof. Get th' girls t'swing the 'Bird over here!_ Getting Marie to stand, Logan pushed her ahead of him along the stage. "Let's get movin', kid."

Marie stopped in front of the curtain, seeing him stop in mid-stride. "What?"

Logan shoved her through the curtain. "Just keep goin' up . . . I'm right behind ya." As he glanced back, wincing a bit as more of the flames began to move along the long walls, he suddenly realized . . . their attacker wasn't where he'd fallen!

A second later, something smashed into his back, pitching him forwards onto the landing just behind the stage. Logan tried to scramble to his feet, but then a large hand clamped over his head and drove him face-first into the unyielding wood floor. A scream filled his ears -- the girl, Marie -- punctuated with the sound of cartilage being savaged as the hand slammed his head repeatedly into the floor.

Bloodied, Logan was finally jerked upright, his senses reeling from the impacts, and the smell of blood in his banged-up nose. Before his eyes, the image of Marie -- crouched against the stairs, several steps above him -- swam in a haze of light and smoke. Before he could say or do anything, another hand wrapped around his neck, squeezing down until his airway was restricted down to a wheeze.

"You ain't goin' no where . . . boy!"

Logan's mind snapped into sudden, crystal-clear focus as he recognized that voice. "C-c-c . . . Cr-Creed!"

A second later, the grinning face of Victor Creed loomed large in his peripheral vision. "Aww, you remember me?" A sudden jerk slammed Logan's face back down into the floor, making Marie squeak with terror, before he was lifted back up to eye-level with the blond-haired man. "Good . . . 'cause I'm the last thing you will ever see in this life, boy!"

At that, Logan twisted just enough to allow his arm to drop back, before his adamantium claws flashed down from between his knuckles, stabbing into the thick flesh of Creed's thigh. A bellow of pain filled his ears, but he ignored it as he felt Creed let go of his neck, giving him the chance to head butt the taller man and follow it up with several fast, hard jabs to his rib cage. Before Creed could get his own breath back, Logan cuffed him across the chops, then lowered his shoulder to spear the big man in the breadbasket; the force of his text-book tackle sending Creed flying back through the remains of the beaded curtain, into the club proper.

Coughing, Logan shook off the onset of cobwebs in his head, before he lurched towards the stairs, nearly colliding with the still-cowering Marie. "Move, girl!"

"B-but-!?"

"Gowan!" Logan grabbed her by the back of her vest and shoved her up the stairs, crowding in behind her to make her hurry along.

Together, they staggered onto the upper floor, emerging into what was clearly the working-girl's dressing room -- from the tall, narrow wall lockers, narrow vanities and lighted mirrors and a few battered couches all along the walls. At one end of the room, a wide window faced out into the nighttime air . . . barred with sturdy-looking metal bars.

"Ah, hell! Joey put up th' security bars today!" Marie cried. "We can't get out that way!"

From below, Logan heard the menacing growl coming up the stairwell. "We're goin' out, one way or 'nother, kid," he said, shoving her towards the window. "Go . . . this dance ain't over just yet!" Turning around, he snapped out his other set of 'claws' and set himself before the dressing room doorway.

"But how am Ah gonna-?"

"Just get over there, Marie," Logan snarled. "I'll worry 'bout th' damned window!"

A second later, Creed's tall form loomed in the doorway, grinning like a shark with blood in the water. "You need to worry about me, boy," he said, his tone rumbling as he let the words drift off with a snarl.

Raising his clenched fists, Logan angled them so the twin sets of his blades were set to meet an oncoming charge. "Why worry about somethin' I can handle, easy?"

Creed's eyes flashed with anger. "'Cause when I tear your heart out . . . I'm gonna have some real fun with that lil' slip you're tryin' to save." His smile curled upwards at the gasp that came from Marie. "Oh, yeah . . . think she'll bleed for me, boy? Like Red did . . . for you?"

Logan didn't rise to the bait. "You gonna talk 'bout it, or dance, chum?"

Creed snarled, then launched himself at Logan. For several heartbeats, there was nothing Marie could see but the fury of arms flailing, growling, flashing claws and the sound of tearing cloth. Then, with a sudden clubbing blow, Logan drove Creed to the floor and followed it up with a savage kick that sent him cart-wheeling into the ruin of one of the vanities.

As Creed floundered amid the chunks of particle board, several tongues of flame suddenly curled around the entrance of the dressing room, followed by a growing curl of dark smoke.

"Mister!? The fire's comin'-!" Marie called out, seeing Logan stagger after the delivery of that kick. When he turned around, she could see the front of his shirt was torn, with several bloody marks that were quickly healing underneath. "Oh, my God!"

"M'okay . . . just stand back!" He made his way over towards the girl, shaking his head as he tried to clear it. _Chuck! Where's Moira an' that flamin' jet!?_

_We're coming alongside the upper floor . . . near where you are now._ Charles' thoughts came through; the urgency making Logan grimace as his head started to throb. _Do you-?_

_Just open th' access ramp!_ With that, Logan jerked Marie to the side. "Cover yer eyes!" he warned, barely giving Marie time to shield her face before he slashed in a backhanded motion towards the window. His blades shattered the window in a flurry of shattered glass, splintered wood and metal, as a couple of follow-up swipes cleared a wide opening in the middle of it.

Stepping up close, he glanced out to look for a ledge or something to stand on . . . but all he could see was the flat surface of the outside wall. "Hell!" A moment later, the high-pitched whine of engines sounded from overhead, making both him and Marie look up as the dark form of Xavier's jet descended from the night sky.

"What th-?" Marie started to ask, only to shriek as something grabbed her, yanking her backwards into the room.

Logan spun back around, glaring as he spied Creed -- standing amid a backdrop of growing flames behind him -- holding onto the back of Marie's vest as she tried to break free. "Kid!" He started to move towards them, but the sight of Creed's hand flashing upwards to put the tips of his claws at Marie's neck stopped him cold.

"You ain't gettin' away . . . not that easily, boy." Creed flicked a glance at Marie, who was frozen with fear. "Now . . . tell yer friend in that fancy flytrap out there to back off, or I'll bleed this lil slip, real good and slow for you both to watch!"

_Chuck! I ain't got a lot of options here,_ Logan said in his mind.

_The fire does not give you any options._ Charles replied. _Be ready. I will deal with your attacker._

_How-?_ Logan stopped himself, suddenly getting the notion of what Charles was planning. _You'd better hit 'im hard and fast, Chuck . . . we won't get a do-over on this!_ Raising his hands, he slowly retracted his claws.

Seeing this, Creed chuckled. "Givin' up, huh? Well, looks like you lose . . . and I'm going to love making you suff-URK!?" Creed's dark humor was suddenly interrupted, as his head snapped backwards like it had been struck, his whole body stiffening as he shuddered from an assault that wasn't physical!

With a sudden lunge, Logan darted forwards and slapped Creed's hand clear from Marie, before he wrapped one arm around the girl's waist and pulled her clear of the now-stricken blond man. "Hold onta me, girl!" With that, Logan kicked Creed in the chest to knock him backwards again, using the momentum as fuel to launch himself back towards the hole he made in the window.

Together, he and Marie sailed out into the air; her scream echoing across the swampland . . . ending as they landed with a heavy THUMP! against the lower edge of the side access ramp on the Blackbird.

Standing there with a safety strap around her middle, Moira was quick to reach down and grab onto Logan's jacket to help haul him up into the jet. "C'mon, don't let go!"

Pushing Marie ahead of him, Logan levered himself up the ramp. "Get her inside, Moira . . . an' let's get outta here!"

"Aye, mon," Moira said, helping the girl slip inside the entrance. "Charles, we've got them. Take us up, now!"  
.

oooOOOooo

.  
Moments after the Blackbird had rocketed away into the skies, the flames that had been spreading throughout the club boiled out through the roof; quickly consuming the remaining structure. Those patrons and staff that could get out had either fled the scene or were watching from safety.

Crawling away from the conflagration, unseen in the shadows cast by a towering cypress, a battered form that looked like Victor Creed slowly rose to their feet . . . only to pause and turn back to view the entire scene with disgust.

"Blast it," they hissed, just before their face rippled like cloth . . . melting away from the cruel, hard features into those of a softer, feminine face with cerulean skin. "I lost her . . . he won't be pleased, but . . . I won't fail to find her again. As for her rescuer, well . . . he will learn the price for his interference!"

With that, the woman scowled and melted into the shadows, vanishing from the sight of the burning club . . . .  
.

oooOOOooo

_Outside the Theatinerkirche,  
Munich, Germany, Several Hours Later . . . ._

.  
Stepping out of the taxi, Tessa and Henry gave little notice to the cool weather surrounding them as they looked up at the edifice of the massive Baroque church. Turning back to speak to the driver, Tessa paid for their fare, while Henry offered a hand to the third member of their company . . . who, while warmly dressed, was clearly out of her element in the cold, European afternoon.

"Sweet, Goddess!" Ororo Munroe wrapped her arms around herself, her breath misting as she huffed. "Even the days I spend near Kilmanjaro were never as cold as this!"

Henry smiled. "For once, I agree. This climate isn't the most hospitable, even for someone like myself."

Ororo blinked. "But, shouldn't you be comfortable? After all . . . ?" She nodded down to his arm, indicating his blue fur.

"Ah, even before I acquired this permanent fur-coat, I never was keen on being out in the cold." Henry looked up at the imposing sight of the old Gothic church, before he asked Tessa, "For now, are we in the right location?"

"Affirmative," Tessa said. "There has been a multitude of reports, of sightings along this entire city area of someone that could fit the description of our contact. All of them have been well within sight of this building."

Ororo swept her eyes over the tall building. "What is this place, Sage?"

"A church," Henry said. "Clearly in the style of the St. Kajetan Basilica." He looked at Ororo and nodded. "The style of Italianate High Baroque had a major influence on Southern German architecture . . . a magnificent structure, indeed."

"So, this . . . mutant you seek," Ororo asked, "is to be found inside?"

"Perhaps," Tessa said at length. "We will not know unless we look." She motioned towards the entrance doors. "Come. We shouldn't linger on the street . . . especially where our friend here is concerned."

Henry chuckled in a self-deprecatory manner. "I do stand out like a sore thumb, after all."

oooOOOooo

Once inside, it was clear that the old building was empty for the day. Though signs of recent visitors lingered, the interior of the was dimly lit by a few stray sconces.

Reaching the interior foyer, the trio made a cursory inspection for any other exits, but found them all locked. Tessa then led the way further inside the church's spacious main room; which was lined with pews, forming a wide aisle that lead up to the main altar at the back of the hall.

Henry looked upwards and around -- seeing nothing but a few stray beams of light seeping through cracks in the old, darkened stained-glass panels. "I don't see where someone would even think of living in a place like this," he said softly.

"When one is pushed, there is much that a human being will do, just to survive," Ororo said. Looking back at Tessa, she asked, "Are you certain the person we seek-?"

"He is here," Tessa said, her tone neutral, yet her eyes ablaze as she peered towards the dais at the head of the room. "He has been watching us, as well."

Suddenly, a low, growling voice shouted out from the shadows: "_Raus hier! Du bist in diesem Haus nicht wilkommen!_"

Turning about, Henry and Ororo looked around quickly for the source of the voice. "Who is there?" the African goddess called out.

"The mutant we are seeking, I'm thinking," Henry said. "Tessa, can you pinpoint him?"

Tessa frowned. "He's . . . no, he's moved!" Her gaze shot upwards, to where the eaves of the church formed a vast pocket of shadows and hiding spaces. "There!" She pointed towards a stone arch, then . . . with a deeper frown, she pointed towards one of the support columns. "No, he's there!"

"How can a person move so quickly?" Ororo asked. Turning this way and that, as Tessa kept turning and looking in several directions, one after the next.

"I am uncertain . . . yet-!" Tessa paused, holding up her hands to signal the others to be silent. Straining, she cocked her head . . . and her eyes widened. "Henry, can you use your other senses now? Just listen," Tessa prompted.

Henry nodded, tilting his own head towards the ceiling and the shadows. Suddenly, he stiffened. "I hear . . . something! Displaced air, I think!"

Tessa nodded. "The sound comes, just before the mutant's presence shifts to a new position." She looked at Henry pointedly.

"A teleporter, perhaps?" Henry rubbed his chin, humming briefly. "Fascinating!"

Suddenly, the voice called out again, "_Vorsicht... hier lauert ein Daemon. Es wäre besser, sofort zu verschwinden!_"

"What is this . . . person saying?" Ororo asked Tessa.

"I speak German fluently . . . though, his manners are somewhat 'rough'," Tessa admitted. "He's trying to warn us away. A 'demon' lives here, so he says."

"A 'demon'!?" Ororo's blue eyes went wide with shock.

"I find that claim, very unlikely," Henry said, trying to soothe the African woman. He tried to peer into the dark parts of the church's cloisters. "Though, whomever this person is, he is using this old basilica to good effect . . . it's hard to track his movements, and he's certainly projecting the proper-."

"He's not that hard to track," Tessa said coolly. "Not for even a telepath of my limited scope." She glanced upwards, then frowned. "However we waste time just letting him bounce around us. We need to act."

Ororo nodded. "What do you suggest we do?"

"_Haut ab!_" the voice shouted harshly. "_Dies ist die letzte Warnung!_"

Tessa looked at Henry, then motioned towards the ceiling. "Henry, can you put yourself in an optimal position to catch our teleporter?" She turned and pointed to one of the larger support columns halfway down the length of the room. "There."

Henry nodded. "With ease!"

"Ororo," Tessa said, turning back to the African goddess. "Can you generate a strong wind in this space? One powerful enough to force our contact out of the shadows?"

Nodding, the chocolate-skinned woman said, "Tell me when to begin."

"Start now, but focus the current so the building remains undamaged . . . relatively speaking," Tessa said.

As Henry moved off to find a clear place to launch himself up to the heights, Ororo nodded and raised her arms, her eyes turning from cerulean to opaque-white as she focused her mutancy into the enclosed space around them. From nothing, she made the air begin to shift and move; growing from a slow breeze to a forceful current that swirled around the arches and stone supports in seconds.

High above the trio, the darkness continued to hide their elusive target . . . until Ororo intensified the wind and made it colder. In due course, the stonework began to frost over with a rime of quick-building ice.

Below, Tessa watched intently, while holding up one hand to warn Henry -- who had already found his position on the column nearby. "Steady . . . he's not moving now, but he'll want to move soon," she said, calling out over the rising howl of the wind. "Ororo, make it colder!"

Nodding, the African 'goddess' was visibly straining to make sure her windstorm was not out of her control. Above, the air began to become peppered with flakes of ice, as the air turned frigid as it swirled over and around the supports.

Suddenly, Tessa shouted, "He's teleporting!"

Above them, there was the sound of a sudden cry of alarm -- and a flurry of movement -- as something as dark as the shadows suddenly fell from the top of an archway; plummeting down towards the stony floor of the church.

"Henry!"

With a leap, Henry vaulted into the air and neatly intercepted the tumbling form, grabbing it in a combination arm and leg-lock. Riding the now-struggling figure downwards, Henry tried to turn so he'd take the brunt of the fall.

Both Tessa and Ororo started to react . . . but then both Henry and his captive vanished with a sudden implosion of acrid air and smoke.

"Sweet mercy!" Ororo let the winds die as she started to step towards the point where her new friend had vanished, but Tessa held her back with one hand.

"Wait," she cautioned. Just then, another loud _**bamf!**_-sound echoed from just behind them, but before they could turn around, several more implosions went off -- coming from random points in the air around them.

"What is happening?" Ororo asked, turning in place to follow the sounds.

"Our teleporter is trying to shake Henry lose," Tessa said. "I surmise it's a tactic they picked up, learning to adapt to their mutancy."

Ultimately, one final_**bamf!**_ heralding the sudden appearance of the two struggling mutants as they landed on the floor, just a few feet in front of Tessa and Ororo. Pinned under Henry's weight, the stranger squirmed but didn't budge the larger man an inch as the two women stepped up to aid their companion.

"Can he-?" Ororo asked.

"No, I sense he's exhausted himself," Tessa said. "Henry, are you-?

"Never fear, Tessa . . . but thank God," Henry said, the strain clearly heard in his voice. "That was . . . an incredible . . . experience!" He looked down at the stranger in his grip. "I do believe . . . he's done teleporting . . . for now."

"Then," Tessa said as she glared down at the fallen pair. "We can find out who this is . . . _Kannst du mich verstehen?_" she asked, speaking to the figure in Henry's grip.

The stranger's head, hidden inside a deep hood, turned to stare at Tessa and Ororo. "_Gnade!_" he said, his voice now much meeker in tone. "_Bitte, tu mir nichts!_"

Tessa shook her head. "_Sprichst du Englisch?_ Do you understand, we will not harm you?"

The stranger paused, then nodded slowly, "_Ja_ . . . yes, I do understand."

Sighing, Tessa knelt down and asked in a gentler tone, "What is your name, please?"

There was the sound of a thick swallow, before the stranger replied. "Kurt . . . my name ist Kurt," he said haltingly. "Kurt Wagner."

"Kurt, you will not be harmed . . . but do not attempt to flee. My name is Tessa, and these people are Ororo and Henry." She nodded to her companions in turn. "We've traveled a long way, to find you."

Stiffening, the smaller man peered intently at them all. "You . . . came, to find me?_Vas-?_"

"Because we understand what you have, your abilities, have set you apart from the rest of humanity." Tessa nodded, and motioned for Henry to help Kurt back to his feet.

"Ah, I see . . . yet, I do not understand?" as they rose back up, Kurt turned his hooded face back to look at Henry. "Was, your friend here, also afflicted as I was?"

Tessa and Henry shared a questioning look. "Forgive me, but, what affliction-?" Henry asked.

"An affliction, that makes a man look . . . like you, and me?!" With that Kurt reached up and lowered the hood from his face.

Gasping softly, Ororo looked at the young German man and murmured, "Sweet Goddess!"

"Oh, my stars and garters!" Henry blinked, taking in the dark, blue-furred face and bright yellow eyes staring back at him.

Kurt nodded, reaching up to briefly touch the pointed, elfin ears sticking through the dark hair tumbling down from his head. "You see, I was born this way . . . they said, I vas a demon, which is why my mother abandoned me." He looked over at Tessa and Ororo, and made a weak smile. "When I saw your friend up close . . . I assumed he too had been cursed, like me."

"No, Kurt," Tessa said. "You are not cursed. What has happened to you -- your appearance, your abilities -- are all connected to something that happened to you, on a genetic level. It's called mutancy, and, by that definition, that makes you a mutant . . . like us."

Kurt blinked, and stared at them all once more. "A . . . m-mutant?"

"It is why I was able to prevent you from teleporting away," Tessa explained. "As well as how Ororo, was able to manipulate the winds to knock you down from the ceiling."

Ororo nodded. "Forgive me, Kurt, I did not mean to hurt you in the process."

"_Nien, frauline_," Kurt said. "You did not . . . injure me." He added with a half-smile, "Though, you did surprise me. This all . . . surprises me, all of you, and-."

"What happened to us all, at the time we discovered our mutancy was a shock to each of us," Tessa said simply. "Yet, I and Henry were able to find someone that could help us control our abilities, and use them to better ourselves."

Kurt cocked his head. "Someone? Someone that . . . did not fear you, for being different?"

"No, this person . . . a man named Charles Xavier, showed us how our mutancy gives us a higher purpose," Henry said. "He's the reason why we came to find you, so that you might benefit from his knowledge and learn to use your gifts as well."  
.

To Be Continued...


	8. Chapter 8

X-MEN : 103

"Recruitment, Part V"

The Uncanny X-Men - Chapter 08 "RECRUITMENT, PART 5"  
by Stephen R. Sobotka / 2006-2012 ©

DISCLAIMER : _This work is a fan fiction, based on characters and situations from the MARVEL Comics Series "_**X-MEN**_". All Characters within - with exception to the ones created by the author - are the ™ and Copyright of said licensees, and are used here without their permission. This is done without intent to gain payment or money of any kind. Please Do Not Sue._

AUTHOR'S NOTE : _This story, and all subsequent chapters to follow, are part of a tribute to one of the unsung greats of Marvel - the late _**Dave Cockrum**_; one of the instrumental team members who was responsible for the reboot of the X-Men back in the 1970's. The work he did, beginning with __"_**Giant-Sized X-Men #1**_" was key to the genesis of this entire effort._

_As such, this version of the Marvel Universe is a different take on what's been established before. Be aware, there are some major changes and differences ahead. _

_Enjoy! - SRS_

.  
.

oooOOOooo

.  
.

RECRUITMENT, PART V

**_Inside the Theatinerkirche,  
Munich, Germany . . . ._**

.  
._  
Staring up at the trio of Tessa, Henry McCoy and Ororo Munroe, the blue-skinned young man blinked, trying for the umpteenth time to absorb all they were trying to tell him. "So, then . . . you are telling me, there ist someone, somewhere, that can accept the way I look?"_

Standing near one of the church's pews, where they'd moved the robed mutant teleporter after helping up from the stone floor, Tessa said, "Professor Xavier has a school, where people of all sorts are accepted . . . if only for the unique abilities they possess." She nodded towards Henry. "Henry was one of Xavier's first students, and only became as he is just recently."

"An accident caused in part my transformation into this form, that I've learned to accept, my young friend." Henry said.

Nodding, Kurt Wagner looked at Ororo, then back to Tessa. "Why did this Professor, send you to find me, Frauline?"

"Because your abilities could be made useful, not just to yourself but to mankind as well." Tessa said.

"I, do not think-." Kurt cut himself off, staring hard at the dark-haired woman. "What use could anyone find for these . . . gifts, you claim that I possess?"

"I shall explain, Kurt. Professor Xavier has a belief, that mutants can all learn to use their abilities as a benefit, not a hindrance or as a threat to themselves or to mankind in general. To this end, he had founded a team of young people - all mutants - who worked to stop threats and dangers alike, while in pursuit of his overall goal of peace for all who live in this world."

Kurt nodded. "I see . . . but, why look for me, if this 'team' is-?"

"Sadly, the original team is no more." Henry said somberly. "My friends were all lost, during a mission to investigate what we thought was another mutant." He briefly told Kurt of the remaining facts of that ill-fated mission.

"After suffering that loss, the Professor has begun searching for new mutants, to rebuild a new team," Tessa said. She looked at Ororo. "Ororo is but one of the first we have contacted and recruited." She turned back to Kurt and added, "We hope that you might also join us."

Kurt looked away, shuddering briefly before saying, "It is . . . my own wish, to be accepted for who I am, but . . . must I do this by joining your Professor's team, and risk my own life as well, Frauline?"

Ororo put a hand on Tessa's shoulder, keeping her from replying. "Sage, let me speak to him." When Tessa nodded, she faced Kurt and said, "I understand your fear, Kurt Wagner. It is a hard thing to decide; to put oneself in possible danger, when it can be more compelling to remain where you are most safe. I too, had a home where there was nothing I could not handle; no danger that I had not yet faced." She smiled gently. "Yet, I came to believe what these two - what Professor Xavier offers - has a much richer reward, for all the danger it may place before me. I left my own home to join these people, in making a dream of a world where people like us, can be accepted without being feared, hated or reviled."

"I believe Ororo, that you are at the root of our young friend's worry, here." Henry said. "Fear of the unknown . . . what may or may not happen, if he was to leave this place. Is that not so, Kurt?"

Kurt, silent during Ororo's pontification, sighed deeply and nodded. "Ja, mein friend. You are right. I fear greatly what I cannot see or know what is beyond these walls, this city . . . ."

"There is nothing so terrible that you can fear, if you face it with others . . . with friends." Henry offered. "After all, we X-Men look out for each other."

"X-Men?"

"It is the moniker that our founder, Professor Xavier gave us," Tessa said.

"And, this Heir Xavier-?"

"Is trying to forge a better future, for all mutants and humanity alike," Henry said. "His institute is meant as a haven for mutants who - for the better part of things - need to learn to better control or use their gifts and abilities."

"It is also a place where young mutants may learn and gain a better understanding of the world around them." Tessa said. "If you come with us. You will be treated fairly and given the time and means to fully explore your mutancy. Safe from any who would demonize you, or try to do you harm."

"For the obvious reasons, clearly." Henry said, pointing to his own furry face and then nodding at Kurt.

Kurt was silent for a few moments more, then he slowly rose to his feet. "Ist . . . is this, place you speak of? Is it far from this city?"

"In America." Tessa said.

"Ah, _Ja wohl _. . . I see." He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then he looked at Ororo with a firm countenance. "You willingly go with them and have no regrets . . . for the people you have left behind?"

"None, though I do admit I shall miss my homeland." Ororo answered. "Yet, I do look forward to the challenge ahead of myself, and my new friends."

Kurt nodded, then he turned away to look up at the framed, stained-glass artwork in the high windows above them. "All my life . . . I believed I was nothing more than a monster; cursed, because of something . . . that happened when I was still small." He turned to looked at the trio and continued, saying, "My foster family . . . they did all they could to help me better understand that, all things happen for a reason. Mortal men may never know, but . . . perhaps, God himself may be the only one who can answer the question of one's existence in this world." He sighed deeply. "I've been seeking answers all my life. Perhaps, this is just another . . . dare I say? An opportunity, to find them?"

"Perhaps, but you will only know for certain, if you have the courage to try?" Ororo said.

"I cannot make you any promises, Kurt," Tessa said solemnly. "Only that you will not have to run any more, if you are willing to come and be a part of the Professor's dream."

Kurt looked to Henry, who nodded in accordance with Ororo and Tessa's words. "Well then, I cannot be worse off, than I already am, mein friends." He nodded, and smiled - revealing four sharp fangs in his dark-furred face - before saying, "_Cher guit._ I shall go with you."

.  
.

oooOOOooo

.  
.

_**The Hangar Deck, Below Ground,  
Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students,  
Salem Center, Westchester County, New York . . .**_

.

With a _hsssh!_ of hydraulics and compressed air, the rear hatchway lowered until it dropped down to touch the metal and rubberized deck beneath Blackbird-One. Coming down the ramp, Professor Xavier's wheelchair preceded the remaining foursome on board.

However, it was only two of the adults and one of the teenagers who were able to follow under the own power.

"Take her to the Medical Wing," Charles said. His tone hardly shifted as he turned to watch Moira McTaggart and Logan carry the unconscious form of Kitty Pryde down the ramp. "We can make certain of her status there."

"Aye," Moira said. "Though I'm fair certain th' chield is fine," she added, casting a concerned look at Marie - who was trailing several paces behind them all, looking as pale as a ghost while she wrung both of her hands in concern. "C'mon, Logan. We best be quick."

The stocky Canadian cast a glance back at the Southern girl, then to Charles. "You gonna be okay on this end, Chuck?"

Charles said, "I'll be fine. Just help Moira see to Kitty." He watched as the others left the hangar, then he turned to face Marie. "Now then. I only want to hear what happened before we were about to land." He calmly looked up into her face, and added, "There's no reason to fear. Though I sense something like this has happened before?"

Marie was now hugging herself, looking away guiltily, before she turned back to Charles saying, "Yeah . . . but, ya gotta believe me, sir! I didn't mean'ta hurt her. Honest!"

Charles reached out with one hand, but his voice was the only thing to reach though Marie's growing sense of panic. "Calmly, Marie, calmly now . . . just, tell me what happened in the Blackbird first."

Drawing in a deep breath, Marie nodded and began to talk. "Well . . . I was just lookin' through somethin' in th' pocket in the seat, in front of me, y'know? I found somethin' that looked like a folder - full o' safety cards an' junk, like on a commercial jet?" She paused, and when Charles nodded, she continued. "Anyway, Kitty . . . she, well, leaned over to look at what I had, an' then she reached out t' take one from me-." She stopped and hugged herself tighter. "I tried t'pull back, before she could touch me, I swear! I tried tellin' her t'stop, but . . . b-but-!"

"It was too late then?" Charles said without callousness or ire. "This then has something to do with your mutancy, child?"

Marie nodded several times. "It's like what happened before . . . back in mah hometown." She shivered. "Ah don'know when it started, but the first time it evah happened was when I was at a school party." She dropped to a crouch on the hangar deck, wrapping her arms now around her knees as she continued. "There was this . . . boy, named Cody. He, well, took a shine t'me a couple o' months before that night. I, uh . . . liked him back, but, we never got th' chance to be close or nothin'."

"I see. So, what happened then was similar to what happened with Kitty?"

Rogue shook her head, then nodded once. "Well, not exactly. Cody decided . . . aw, hell! All he wanted t'do was kiss me! So, I let him . . . an' the second we touched, I got this all ovah rush, an' then it was like . . . I could see mem'ries, in mah head, but they weren't mine! They were all about Cody. Catchin' the winnin' pass at th' big game, having dinner with his folks-!" She cut herself off and hitched her shoulders, suppressing a soft sound in her throat. "The next thang I knew, Cody was lyin' on th' ground, twitchin' like he was goin' through a fit or seizure! I just screamed . . . an' ran off. I never looked back, even to see what happened."

Charles nodded, nudging the controls of his wheelchair to bring himself closer to Marie. "I see . . . and now it makes some sense what happened to Cody and Kitty are both a result of your abilities." He cocked his head and added, "It's . . . disconcerting, yet fascinating as well."

Marie looked up at him. "Well, I don't think so! I found out later through mah folks that Cody's in th' hospital in a coma . . . doctor's never were sure when he'd come out o' it. But, evah since then, I just couldn't let people touch me. I didn't want th' same thing t'happen to anyone else!" She ducked her head. "Only now it's happened again!"

"Yes, but I'm certain the outcome will not be the same as what happened to your friend Cody," Charles said.

Marie looked back up at him. "Why's that, ya reckon?"

Charles said, "Because, I believe the reason lies in the fact Kitty is also a mutant." He looked away with a thoughtful expression. "Yes, after hearing your story about Cody, I'm certain of the outcome." He looked back at Marie, seeing the look of disbelief in her face. "You see, Marie, Cody was just a normal human being. He, according to you, had no mutant abilities or hidden powers . . . and, it appears that your mutancy can absorb the memories and vital force of humans. Which is what explains why you were able to view vivid memories of Cody's life, and why he was rendered into a comatose state."

Marie looked doubtful. "Well, then why's th' difference with Kitty?"

"I believe your ability to siphon off memories and energies is altered slightly when it comes in contact with another mutant. Because of her mutancy, you merely took a portion of Kitty's mutant ability and her memories, rather than draw off her vital energies instead." He added with a wry twist of his lips, "It's also what nearly caused you to fall through your seat, from the shock of when her hand touched yours. Out of reflex, you were able to access her ability of 'phasing', if only for a brief moment."

Marie nodded slowly, "Yeah . . . that, wasn't somethin' I expected t'happen."

"A good thing the effect was as brief as the moment of contact," Charles said with a touch of humor. "After all, you might have fallen completely through the bottom of the Blackbird."

Marie cringed.

Charles soothed her by saying, "But, you need not fear, Marie. I believe this little . . . accident, will be the starting point of working out a better means to understanding your mutancy. As to it's origin and the means to allow you better control over it."

Marie looked at him in surprise. "Control ovah-? You mean, I can . . . turn it off?"

"If we discover the means why it has remained active for this long, yes." Charles looked at her and pursed his lips. "However, knowing what effect it will have upon others means we must take some precautions with you, child." He turned his wheelchair away, and aimed it towards one of the walls on the other side of the hangar deck. "Come with me, please?"

Getting to her feet, Marie followed Charles up to where a row of eight, squat metal doors lined up on the wall before him. "What ya'll gonna do, Professor?"

Xavier reached out with his mind, telekinetically manipulating the control panel on one of the doors. "This is where I keep extra uniforms, Marie. Outfits and such that my X-Men wore when they were a-field, looking for other mutants." The door popped open, and Charles nodded after inspecting the contents inside. "Go on." he prompted, nodding for Marie to look inside as well. "These were made especially to act as protection from the environment, but . . . they might well allow you to insulate yourself from affecting others with your mutancy."

Marie drew out a couple of folded bundles; unfolding one into a long, full-body suit of clinging, flexible material that was colored in black with some gold-yellow pieces. "They . . . feel sorta funny. Like a wet suit mah uncle had once," she remarked. "He was a skin diver in th' Navy."

"They were meant for function and utilitarian purpose, Marie." Charles said. "Complete with boots, belt and gloves." He sighed a bit. "I had hoped that it would be a while, before I had to issue these to any who would join my new 'class' of mutants . . . but, with your situation-."

"It's sort o' necessary, huh?" Marie blew out her cheeks with a sigh. "Well, I cain't look any worse in it, than what th' girls back at th' Club wore." She looked at Charles with a slight blush. "Ah mean . . . well, some o' them wore a LOT less than these duds."

Charles smiled. "I would . . . imagine so." He turned and indicated the doorway nearby. "There's a small changing room, just beyond there. You can go in there and change, if you'd like to try one of these on. Most are fit for most body sizes and shapes."

Marie looked back at the locker for a moment, then, pulling out a pair of low-heeled boots and gloves, she said, "Well, ain't nothin' gained if it ain't ventured."

.  
.

oooOOOooo

.  
.

_**The Infirmary, Medical Bay,  
Sub-Level Two, Beneath the Xavier's Institute . . .**_

.

Kitty Pryde slowly felt herself coming back from the dark void she'd fallen into; feeling heavy against the pillow and mattress she found cradling her head and body. Wincing, she tried to lift herself, only to have someone press her back down with a firm yet gentle touch.

"Stay put, m'girl . . . I've only just gotten ye hooked up tae th' medical scanner, an' Aye don' want tae knock any o' th' connections loose."

Recognizing Dr. MacTaggart's voice, Kitty stopped moving. "Oh . . . okay. Umm, wha'happened to me?"

"From what I can tell, Kitty, somethin' t'do wi' Marie's mutancy knocked ye out cold f'r a bit."

Kitty frowned, then asked meekly, "Am . . . am I gonna be okay?"

There was silence for a few moments, then Moira sighed, "I'll know when th' scanner is finished, child."

From somewhere to her right, Kitty could hear a low growl. "Don't need a scanner t' tell me she's on the mend, Moira. Though now I get why th' girl - Marie - didn't want me touchin' her when I was tryin' t'get her out of that firetrap."

Kitty opened her eyes, blinking a bit as she focused on the faces of Logan and Dr. MacTaggart, who leaned across her to check one of the bed-side monitors briefly before looking down into Kitty's face. "Do ye feel any thing is wrong, Kitty?"

Kitty shook her head. "No . . . just, I feel drained, is all."

"Weel," Dr. MacTaggart said, "apart from that, ye seem okay f'r th' nonce. At least, that's what th' scanner's say. I'll keep ye here f'r a wee longer, just t'make certain." She looked to Logan. "P'raps ye better go and let Charles know she's in no danger, Logan."

Logan nodded. He started to turn away to head for the exit, when a mental voice spoke to him, Dr. MacTaggart and Kitty all at once: _Logan, Moira . . . when you can, join me in the lounge in the mansion-proper. Henry and Tessa have returned, and . . . they have some extra guests with them._

Dr. MacTaggart replied aloud and internally; "Aye, Charles." She nodded to Logan. "Best go ahead, mon. I'll be up shortly."

"Okay, Doc." Logan looked at Kitty and gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't fret, kid. Yer in good hands here. Get yerself back t'rights, an' we'll get you up to speed later, 'kay?"

Kitty nodded. "Sure thing, Mr. Logan."

.

oooOOOooo

.  
.

_**The Main Lounge, Mansion's Ground Floor,  
Xavier's Institute for Gifted Students,  
Salem Center, Westchester County, New York . . .**_

.  
.

Logan stepped through the open doorway to the lounge, pausing when he took notice that Charles and Marie weren't alone. "Well, when you said we'd be havin' extra company, Chuck, I wasn't expectin' this." He took note of each member of the group - two dark furred men, one larger than the other; a tall black woman with white hair, next to a very tall younger man with hard, chiseled features and a shorter, dark-haired woman in skin-tight leather clothing and an overcoat.

"Logan, I've only just been introduced to some of our new arrivals," Charles said. Nodding to each in turn, he said, "Let me introduce you to Ororo Munroe, Kurt Wagner and Piotr Rasputin. The others are two of my current . . . surviving students; Henry McCoy and Tessa."

Logan nodded to each in turn - his eyes lingering a bit over Ororo and Tessa, before narrowing at Kurt's appearance - before he said, "Please t'meet ya." He looked to where Marie was standing, his eyes widening at the look of the form-fitting outfit she now wore, before saying, "Doc's still runnin' tests, but looks like Kitty's gonna be okay, kiddo."

Marie breathed a sigh of relief, hugging herself as she said, "Thank God! Can I go see her? I gotta apologize-."

"You'll have time after we're finished here, Marie," Charles said, giving her a reassuring look, before he turned to face the others. "Well, since we have everyone together - with Kitty and Moira the exceptions - I guess it would be best to start things off with . . . well, with an explanation of what I am trying to do here at my school." He paused when he saw Kurt flinch. "Kurt, is there something wrong?"

"Forgive me, Heir Professor," Kurt said, giving Tessa a quick glance, "but . . . I was told that this was an institution?"

Charles nodded. "It is, after a fashion. However, for the most part this is an institution where I work to help other mutants to understand and control the abilities, and what effects that come with each individual's mutancy." He smiled. "In a way, I find that using an educational base is often a good platform to aid in that mission."

"Ah, I see," Kurt said.

"So," Ororo spoke up, "what exactly is expected of us, Professor? Are we simply to learn from you while we stay here?"

"In part yes, though overall I am hoping that you will aid me further in my far-reaching goals," Charles said. "You see, I have found it a universal fact . . . that humanity at large is, well, afraid of what we as mutants possess. Powers that some cannot even begin to comprehend. Abilities that put us somewhat above the norm, for what most people expect and understand." He paused, looking at each one of them in turn. "It is my hope that, through your help and assistance, that I might be able to put humanity at ease. To show them there is no need to fear us, to help grow acceptance of all mutants; no matter what powers, abilities or appearances they may possess."

A soft rumble of a throat clearing got everyone's attention, as the tall young man named Piotr spoke. "So, it is for us to help you, Professor . . . by being part of this school, and of this 'team' Mister McCoy spoke of?"

"Yes, that is part of what I hope to do, Piotr," Charles said.

"Does not sound promising, forgive me, Professor," Piotr said, frowning. "To consider what has been told of your first class, da?"

That question drew shocked looks from Ororo and Kurt, and caused expressions of concern on Henry and Marie's faces. Tessa remained passive as ever, but Logan looked darkly in Piotr's direction.

Charles expression fell briefly, but he shook himself and nodded. "I will not make you any promises, Mister Rasputin. My X-Men team was formed, when I saw that there was a need for . . . for helping people. Abilities such as ours could always be used for the greater good. To stop disasters. Save lives in danger."

"But, is true it will also be our lives in danger as well?" Piotr asked.

At that, Logan cleared his throat and said, "Look, kid. Life's always gonna be a risk, no matter how ya slice it. Are you sayin' ya ain't up for th' task?"

Charles shot Logan a hard look. "Logan-."

"Butt out fer a sec, Chuck. Question's as valid as his." Logan stepped up to where the tall Russian was, glaring up at him. "Face it, Ruskie, we ain't exactly formin' a tea an' doily circle here. Chuck needs people who can stand up to th' task an' stick with it to th' bitter end." He reached out and jabbed a finger into the tall, dark-haired man's chest. "You got that sorta moxie, kid?"

Staring down at the shorter Canadian, Piotr said, "I live in Siberia all my life, where work was hard and living just as much." He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Logan. "Not once have I ever shirked responsibility, nor left my family when the need was there. If asked, I would do all that I could to help those in need."

Logan nodded. "But, do ya got the guts to stick with it, when it gets all ugly? An' I mean blood-an'-guts ugly, kid."

Before Logan had realized it, Piotr had reached out and snagged him by the neck, lifting him bodily off his feet and up into the air. Out of reflex, Logan kicked out towards the big Russian's body, only to shout in surprise when his boot-clad foot clanged off of something metallic.

Reacting with varying degrees of alarm, everyone else watched as a silvery, metallic sheen began creeping over the exposed flesh of Piotr's arms and chest. In moments, it appeared that his skin and hair had become something like solid metal. Much to Logan's own surprise, when the metallic transformation was complete, he found that Piotr's grip around his throat felt nigh-unbreakable.

Glaring harshly, Piotr said, "I am Piotr Nikolaievitch Rasputin. I do not run from that which threatens my family. Nor will I run from anything that threatens those I would call 'friend'." His hand visibly tightened around Logan's throat. "I also will not turn away from arrogant, Americans who question my courage."

Dragging air through his restricted windpipe, Logan croaked, "I . . . gotcha, but . . . I'm Canadian!"

At that point, Charles spoke up. "That is enough, Peter! Let Logan go at once!"

Piotr shot Charles a quick glance, before he returned his eyes to Logan. "He insults my courage, Professor. I can not allow it."

Charles softened his tone, but his words were as firm as iron as he said, "Yes, but I need Logan's own . . . unique skills, Piotr. Logan will apologize, but I need you to release him, so that he may do so, at once."

Piotr held his gaze on Logan for a moment more, then without warning he opened his hand and dropped him unceremoniously onto the floor. Logan hit the carpet with a thud, before rolling up onto his feet and extending his claws with a snarl, clearly intending to launch himself at the metal-clad youth. Piotr raised both of his fists, clearly ready to meet whatever Logan was about to toss at him.

"That is ENOUGH!" Charles' voice was reinforced with a mental 'shout'; both of which brought both men to a standstill. "Both of you, stand down at once!"

Both Logan and Piotr didn't reply, nor did they let their heated gazes come away from each other . . . until Charles moved his wheelchair in between them and the air between both men became filled with the intense energy of psionic force.

"This sort of blind, misguided aggression is not needed, nor will I tolerate it while you are under my care." Looking from one to the other, Charles said, "Logan, while I admit I need you, what I do not need is you goading any of my students into unnecessary displays of force. You are experienced, and I need that and leadership to help form my new team, but you will keep your temper in check . . . or else. Do I make myself clear?"

Logan continued to stare up at Piotr, but his body grew less tense and his claws retracted slowy into his arms. "Sure, Chuck. I get ya."

Charles turned to Piotr with equal sternness. "As such, Mr. Rasputin, no one is going to call you out for being a coward. You clearly are an honorable man, and I respect that and need such traits in my students. However, as much as Logan shall curb his temper, I expect you to do the same where your 'honor' is concerned. Is this clear?"

Piotr glared at Logan for a moment more, but then he turned his eyes to the Professor and nodded; his body reverting to normal flesh and bone as his mutancy was deactivated. "Da, Professor Xavier," he said, his cheeks coloring as he clearly showed his shame. "I . . . I am sorry. I should not lose control, like that."

Still firm in posture, but allowing his tone to soften a bit, Charles said, "You are human, after all, Piotr. That is what makes the difference in the end." Turning back to the others, Charles said with a rueful smile, "For all we come from different countries and backgrounds, we are all here for a common cause. To work together. Learn from each other, and work towards a future in which that which makes us different, can someday be tolerated and accepted by everyone. Human and mutant alike."

"It is . . . it sounds like a worthwhile cause, mein heir," Kurt said.

"Indeed," Ororo said. "Though I feel there is much risk in what you are attempting, Professor."

"There is, Miss Munroe," Xavier said, his face taking on a brief pained expression, before shaking it off. "However, my prior students all believed the risks were worth taking, if only to see the ends of the means come to pass." He looked at each young person in turn. "A world were all are accepted, without fear of persecution," he said, nodding to Kurt. "Where we can strive for a better life, for those we care for." At this, he looked pointedly at Piotr, who grunted softly in accord. "My students sacrificed much," he said, looking to Henry and Tessa. "But, I believed in their potential . . . and I will do the same here, with you." He smiled at Marie, before adding, "Because I know that I cannot let the dream - my dream, yours, and theirs - die without making the ultimate effort to try."

Henry said, "For them, and for ourselves, we cannot do anything less."

Tessa nodded, "Agreed."

"Ja, Heir Professor," Kurt said, looking less fearful than he did moments ago. "I will do this, and help you with your work here."

Marie said, "After all, I ain't got nowhere else t'go . . . besides, what more have we got t'lose?" This she said, looking up at Piotr.

The tall Russian crossed his arms over his chest, before sighing and saying, "Forgive me, for I am pessimist." He shrugged, then cracked a crooked smile. "Is Russian tradition. But, I will join you, Professor. If only for the sake of my family and their future."

Logan nodded, before saying, "Looks like ya got an accord, Chuck."

Charles smiled and gestured to every one of them as a group. "Then, with that said, I welcome you all as my students, and as the core members of my new team of X-Men."

Tessa said, "You said core members, Professor. Does that mean we're not finished recruiting?"

Charles replied, "Oh, we're finished for the time being, Tessa. However, I must say that there is always a possibility for us to accept more new people into our 'class', as it were." He nodded more to himself than for everyone's benefit. "After all, one cannot predict what will happen in the near-future . . . ."

.  
.

To Be Continued...


End file.
